The Assassin
by Baron de Pencier
Summary: What happens when Tzeentch sends an emissary to explore a planet which has suddenly gone dead? Crazy stuff, apparently.
1. In Which Exposition Happens

What follows is the first segment of a Warhammer 40k story I'm currently writing for the 40k Online forum. Enjoy!

_All copyrighted names, places, etc. belong to those who copyrighted them._

* * *

Hello?! Hello out there! I know you're listening! I've learned from... past experience that when Lord Tzeentch is involved, there's probably someone watching me. I'd better introduce myself- Sebell Vivat, Eye of Tzeentch, at your service. Or, rather, not at your service. I serve the Changer of Ways, and no one else. I suppose I'm the Chaotic equivalent of an Inquisitor- not that those pompous, deluded maniacs have any idea of what they're doing, of course, but there you go- it reminds me of this one time, in the Tempus system, where... Damn. Where was I?

_You were going to talk about the Assassin, weren't you?_

Right. Thanks, Root.

_Don't mention it._

Ah, yes- Allow me to introduce to you my left hand-er- man, I guess. His name is i; where i is the algebraic symbol representing the square root of negative one. I for one have n-

_What can I say? We Lords of Change like to be mysterious! Besides, It's kind of funny, you know, because i is an undefined value, and I'm a Lord of Change¸ so it's sort of a joke with numbers-_

-But you can call him Root. Wait, why am I telling you this? There's a good chance you (especially you out there in the Dyson Sphere) are omnipotent- why should I bother filling you in on the details if you already know what's going on?

_It's a story, Sebell- you can't not have exposition._

Right. So I'm an Eye of Tzeentch- we're independent investigators, carrying out His will in the Galaxy. In exchange for our services, we are provided with everything we could possibly want. For some, it's power, others, fame and fortune- for me, it's technology. You see, when I was young, I always dreamed of joining the Adeptus Mechanicus- I loved the machines, the robes, the ceremony of it all. Then one day I-

_Ugh. Sebell's a good guy- otherwise I wouldn't be possessing his left arm, but he has this really annoying tendency to go off on tangents. So- we'd been assigned by the Great One himself to Namaskar, a small world, out on the rim of Tau territory. A moderately-sized WAAAGH! had managed to push the Tau out of the region, and the Imperials moved in, hoping to catch the Orks off guard. Two Cadian regiments, the 32nd and the 197th were sent in, accompanied by the 13th Katyushan Sputnik Support Army. Tzeentch's sake, who named those guys? I know Khornate weapons with more imagination! Anyways, after three months of heavy fighting, with no side clearly the victor, all signs of life on the planet disappeared. No imperial transmissions, nothing on the Ork frequencies- nothing. Even the ships in orbit crashed to the surface. For whatever reason, the Changer of Ways wanted to know what had happened to Namasakar. (Imperial name, by the way- the Tau one is practically unpronounceable)So we were equipped, warped in, and here we are._

-Which is why I'm still afraid of mice!

_Sebell?_  
Yes?

_Please, could you-_

-stop talking? Are we done?

_I'm done, yes._

So there I was. Namaskar- dangerous, mysterious, exciting Namaskar. The warp jump had just finished- I'd arrived inside the shell of a semi collapsed building, settling into a combat stance as soon as the fires of the Immaterium faded from my vision. The combat stance was out of habit, mind you- after the... unfortunate incident with the Buzzard-wasps on Wanshi-Tong, I'd-  
_  
__Hem._

Right. I'd better make a brief overview of my equipment. Now I'm not actually a Chaos Marine, per se, so my power armour wasn't up to their standards. It was based off the design of the Sororitas armour, and powered by a spiritually-fuelled catalytic cracking unit, which-

_Root here. Again, Sebell's a little obsessed with technology. I'll explain what he's saying in simpler terms. The suit was developed by the followers of Khorne- essentially, it could explode without damaging itself. Several other agents of Tzeentch stole it from the Khornate forges, and, since it was destined for Sebell's use, I was chosen to possess it. The explosive abilities were modified by my power- the Khornate demon was heavily contained- he's now pretty much the fuel supply. Aggravah, say hi!_

_**MAIM! KILL! BURN!! MAIM!! KILL!! BU-**_  
_  
__...yeah, he's like that. Anyway, the suit can fire blasts of warp energy, which, thanks to my abilities, can fold the fabric of the Materium. Basically, it turns real matter into warp matter, which then explodes. Let's see what Sebell's doing, shall we?_

...Generating a transphasic phlebotinium interference patter, as postulated the great Scotti, creating a catastrophic-

_...And he's still going. Wow. Isn't _he_ supposed to be the storyteller here? Back on topic- I'd better explain my position in relation to Sebell- I'm his left arm. How I came to be in this position is an entirely different story, and I'm not going to bother telling it now. Suffice it to say, Sebell's arm is composed of gaseous, free-floating warp matter (i.e. me), which can mold to any form. I'm still able to assume control and take on corporeal from, but I mostly let him use the arm. We have a system. It works. Why bother changing it?_

Okay, I'm done!

_At least you realise you have a problem._

And knowing is half the battle!

_Riiiight... So, Namaskar._

Back to the action! The building was deserted- the walls were riddled with bullet holes, and the grey concrete was scarred from what looked to be a considerable firefight- literally, in this case, as the burn marks indicated at least one side had used flamers. There were no bodies, and the floor was coated with a thin layer of dirty snow. Did I mention it was _cold_? 'Cause it was. Very. My monitor readouts indicated an exterior temperature of around negative 30, Celsius of course. Cold enough to freeze exposed skin after abooout... three minutes.

_You're getting off topic..._

Sorry. I stepped outside, getting my bearings. What I saw next creeped me out- and that's saying something, considering I do worship the Dark Gods.

_He's right- the planet was_ seriously_ unnerving. But I'll let him tell it._

Simply put, there was nothing- it looked like your basic ruined city; war torn hulks of buildings, the skeleton of a downed cruiser off on the horizon, the occasional small fire still burning from shot-up vehicles- but it was dead.

_Utterly._

No noise, no activity, nothing. There were a few scraggly trees nearby- completely dead. Ditto the birds whose skeletons littered the ground under them- they hadn't been eaten by predators. Nearby, I saw the corpse of an Ork- It certainly wasn't alive, because not even an Ork can survive having a meter-wide hole punched through their torso. I cranked open the filters on my helmet, hoping to get a whiff, and the air was- blank. It smelled canned, like air that had been sealed in a tank for centuries.  
_  
__Again, he's got it nailed. While he made his observations, so did I. I detected no life signs whatsoever- nothing living, down to the bacterial level. I would normally have suspected an Exterminatus for this kind of thing, but the ruins were too... intact. It was like the battlefield had just ground to a halt. __Even I was spooked._

I'd like to be able to say that, soon after my arrival, I was swept up with in a web of intrigue and deception...

_...met the love of your life..._

...And learned a valuable lesson about the nature of friendship and self-worth. Unfortunately for me, that didn't happen. What _actually_ happened was three mind-numbingly dull weeks of exploration. It's pretty hard, scouting an _entire planet_ by yourself.  
_  
__I was there too, you know!_

Sorry. But back to the story- I- we- were getting nowhere. It was fairly easy to reconstruct what state the battle was in. The Orks, apparently expecting outside attack, had erected-

_Heheh. Erected._

For Tzeentch's sake, Root, that was just childish! Shame on you.

_Sorry, Sebell._

Huh. Anyways, the Orkish defences were formidable. Being orks, their Waaagh! had split into several individual camps, but each camp was incredibly fortified- more than enough to resist any direct assault. The Imperials, knowing this, and assuming (correctly) that the greenskins had little or no naval support, decided to try siege warfare to minimize their casualties.

_Hence why they called in the Katyushans. Apparently they're the closest thing the Guard has to the pre-Heresy Iron Warriors, at least when it comes to siegecraft._

Precisely. Despite the defences, all the soldiers- Ork or Human, were dead. Some had obviously been killed by their counterparts on the opposite side, but the vast majority had died of clean, oddly precise wounds- it was like large chunks of them had simply been removed. What really bugged me, though, was what had happened to the Navy. The three regiments-

_Technically two regiments and a Support Army._

Same thing- they had brought with them a considerable flotilla. Now, the capital-sized ships were drifting, burnt-out hulks, while everything cruiser-sized and smaller had simply fallen out of orbit. Even worse, none of the ships had been brought down by external fire- they had all been disabled _from the inside_. If that's not suspicious, I don't know what is.

_The ships were an obvious puzzler, but I was even more concerned about the state of the planet. It's incredibly difficult to destroy a world's ecosystem without causing major harm to the world itself, but who or whatever had done this had managed to (as far as I could tell) exterminate all life without doing any real damage. Over the course of our exploration, I kept on picking up weak warp signatures, but they faded every time we came close. Trying to cope with this kind of situation is not good for one's mental stability, and I was no exception. Needless to say, nerves were frayed and tensions were high._

Until the first day of the fourth week. That's where everything started.

_Ah, I love foreshadowing._

We were investigating a relatively rural area- a former mining community by the looks of it. We'd just finished a sweep of the town hall in search of computer records-

_No dice- All the electronic devices we found had been fried by some kind of EMP._

-When we were interrupted by a low rumble. I wasn't too surprised- the sound of some of the still-burning fortifications and vehicles collapsing or exploding had been a fairly common occurrence in the cities.  
_  
__Although it scared the Warp out of us the first time we heard it happen._

What was strange about this, however, was that we were well out of the conflict zone, deep within Ork-held territory. The Imperial bombardment hadn't reached this far, and everything was still standing.

"Damnation! The warp was that?"  
_  
__"Odd... I'm reading a sudden surge in ambient heat radiation. That wasn't there five minutes ago."_

"Worth checking out?"

_"Definitely."_

I moved out of the town hall, threading my way carefully around the large mounds of Orkish debris which had piled up during their short occupation. The eerie silence had returned, and I was about to turn back to my previous errand when a massive jet of flame, accompanied by a roaring detonation, shot skywards from a square I'd passed several streets away. The flame was accompanied by a silvery-grey object, which hit the ground behind me, hard. I threw myself out of the way, bringing both arms up into a close-combat position. Before I could assimilate exactly what I was looking at, the... thing emitted a brilliant flash of bluish light. By the time I'd recovered from the shock, it was gone.

"Hell's bells! Did you catch a glimpse of that thing?!" I exclaimed, understandably shocked. I was prevented from continuing by the psychic equivalent of a low groan.  
_  
__"Oh Gods... what just happened?"_

"Root? Are you all right? Talk to me!"

He moaned again.  
_  
__"Where'd all the other dimensions go?"_

I shook my head in confusion.

"What? What d'you mean, other dimensions?"

_"I can't see the warp! I'm only seeing things in four dimensions, not seven!"_

"How is that possible? You're a daemon!"  
_  
__"I... I don't know. I- I'm still drawing energy from the warp, and I think I can still use that energy, but the connection is gone. I feel... drained."_

"I'm not sure I follow."  
_  
__"I can influence realspace, and I'm not running low on power, but I can't see things in the warp anymore. I'm like... a psyker. An incredibly high-powered psyker. I can use the warp, but I'm no longer part of it."_

"Uh-oh."

We were interrupted by another burst of fire over the rooftops, this time accompanied by shouts and the distinctive sound of gunfire.

"Can you tell what's going on?"_"It's- no, I can't. I'm limited to five senses. I'm sorry. I'm getting no warp presence at all."_

"Well, whatever we came here for is probably connected to that gunfight somehow. Let's get moving. Are you up for it?"  
_  
__"I... think so."_

* * *

This is my first story that I've actually been somewhat pleased with. I'm almost done writing the rest, and I'll upload the next few bits if people like what I have now.

In the meantime, comments are welcome, constructive criticism is actively encouraged. I won't necessarily follow your recommendations, but be sure that I will take them into account.


	2. In Which Antagonists Kill Things

I've finished the story on the other site, so I'm gonna post the whole thing. There porbably won't be any authour's notes or anything, excpet maybe to respond to reviews. So... yeah.

* * *

It took us a while to get to the scene of the gunfight- we had to work our way through most of a small city to find it, and the intense cold didn't help much, either.

_That was probably another reason they called in the Katyushans- they're iceworlders, so they'd be comfortable in Namaskar's climate._

What is with you and the Katyushans, anyways?

_They're an unknown quantity- a relatively obscure Imperial group. Everybody knows about the Cadians- its hard _not _to. But these guys have a certain... well, the Orks say 'I dunno wut'..._

Hah. Who's going off on tangents now, huh?

_You win this round, Sebell._

Anyhoo... back to the story. We were working our way over yet another pile of orky debris...

"Are you sure you're all right, Root?"

"_It's weird... being able to only see in four dimensions. Everything's so.... simple. It's kind of refreshing, actually."_

"Can you still back me up with magic? I'd prefer having an Alpha-Plus level daemon on my side in case anything gets hairy."

"_Yep. I've been doing a few basic experiments. My overall power level seems to be lower than usual, but I can easily siphon off power from Aggravah. You know, it's pretty useful, using daemons as energy so- Wow."_

"Uh-huh..."

Our collective train of thought had been derailed by the sight of the battle ahead. Normally, battle noise would have been pretty obvious. In this case, however, the scenery had impeded this. The two groups of combatants- Ork and Imperial- were fighting around what looked to be the remains of an imperial propaganda station. Several of the large propaganda towers were still operational, sending out loud sheets of white noise which effectively silenced the battlefield. Dropping behind a low wall, I took quick stock of the situation. It was classic city warfare.

The Imperials had holed up in the propaganda center, barricading themselves in with all the rubble they could carry. I could see several troopers crouched in the windowsills, showering the square below with a rain of silvery projectiles. They were using some sort of rocket-assisted slugthrowers – the shells didn't explode, but obviously had considerable range- they were easily lobbing shots all the way across the square.

_It's worth noting the square, too- It had once been some sort of public gathering place around the propaganda center, and consequently was immense. Currently it was a racetrack. The Orks still apparently had some functional warbuggies, and they were roaring around the area, sending bursts of fire towards any visible Imperials._

It rapidly became apparent why the Orks weren't making any charges, as was their usual tactic. As I watched, a figure threw itself from the top of the propaganda tower. Midway through its fall, it kicked out its feet, which, to my surprise, let out a stream of flame, catapulting the figure ba-

_Look, for simplicity's sake (if nothing else) let's just use masculine pronouns, all right?_

_He _kicked out his feet, and the burst of flame sent him soaring towards one of the buggies. The gunner, apparently noticing him, swung the vehicle's turret around and filled the air with lead. The figure was still too fast to hit- he was on a direct collision course with the front of the oncoming machine. Suddenly, he brought his gun to bear. It projected a blazing stream of fire- directly into the face of the buggy's exposed driver. Roaring in pain, he fell out of the driver's seat, and the vehicle smashed into one of the nearby buildings, burying itself under a pile of rubble. Meanwhile, the burst from the figure's flamer had apparently slowed him down enough to make a safe landing- he hit the ground running, and had made another rocket assisted jump back into the Imperial position before the Orks could get a bead on him.

_To put it simply, these guys had _rocket boots_. Need I say more?_

Bad-ass!

The loss of one of the warbuggies gave the Katyushans-

'_Cause those sure as hell weren't Cadians..._

-the upper hand. On top of their improvised fortress, a figure stood up, flexing metal-plated limbs...

"A Loyalist? Here? Why didn't we know about this- Dammit, Root, no-one told me the Space Marines were here!"

"_Hold on... I don't think that's a space marine."_

Closer inspection proved him right. The figure stood about seven feet tall, and his armour was considerably chunkier and more awkward-looking than standard Loyalist issue. Any further observation was halted, however, by the flare of a wide rack of missiles strapped to the figure's back.

"Oh, no... Don't tell me they have flying _power armour_..."

Then the explosions started. The figure shook from the strain as a... cloud of missiles-

_That's actually a pretty accurate description-_

-rose from his back, soaring into the air with a roar that was audible even over the sheet of white noise. They curved in sharp arcing trajectories, before impacting against the Ork- held buildings with huge bursts of fire. As I watched, one of the buildings keeled over with a sickening crunch, landing directly on top of the one of the two remaining warbuggies. At this, there was a roar of anger from the Orks.

"ME WARBUGGY! YOU KILLED ME WARBUGGY! SHOOT 'EM, BOYZ! WAAAGH!"

Before his troops could return fire, the final Warbuggy in the square exploded from an impact so powerful the vehicle was torn in half. Small chunks of shrapnel spanged across the square. There was another anguished cry from the Ork group.

"STOP KILLIN' ME BUGGIES!"

But no one was listening- all eyes in the square were fixed on the figure which stood astride the burning remains of the buggy.

_The Assassin._

When did we agree it was called the Assassin? I don't remember ever giving it a name...

_It doesn't matter. Now, I believe you were about to start a descriptive paragraph?_

Right- of course. The assassin was tall and inhumanly thin, with a lithe grace you normally only ever see in the Eldar. Its' body was composed of several smooth, oblong chunks of reflective metal, each hovering in the air in formation. Its overall shape was that of a human, but one that has been stretched. The arms and legs were long and tentacle-like, with three-fingered 'hands' reaching to about mid knee-level. The arms, like the body, were made of what seemed to be several strands of the same shiny metal, twisted together. The 'head' was the most unnerving part- it hovered a few centimetres above the rest of the body, and was entirely featureless except for three small holes, arranged in a vertical line, which glowed with blue light. The rest of the body flickered with the small blue light as it moved- it seemed to appear in lines across the Assassin's skin. The head was topped by a semicircular 'crown'- sort of like a halo, except much thick and alive with lines of blue light. Like the rest of the body, the crown floated above the thing's head.

_It was unnervingly mechanical... but also alive, somehow._

The explosion of the buggy seemed to have knocked out the Imperial propaganda system once and for all- the static had stopped. In the sudden silence, two voices were audible, one from each side of the square.

"_Apoli_! It's back! Fall back!"

"Boyz... stop crumpin' da Humies! Da Metal Git's back! Let's get outa here!"

I dropped behind cover again, struggling to take stock of the situation.

"Any ideas, Root?"

"_Well, if both the Imperials and the Orks don't like that... thing, then it means it's probably what's responsible for killing everyone. Unfortunately, that means it'll probably have no qualms about killing us."_

"Is it Chaotic?"

"_I hope not. Anyways, we'd have been informed if any of the other Dark Gods were operating in this area."_

"Okay... Here's the deal- we'll stick with the Imperials and the Orks. From what I could tell, there's only one way out of the square. From what I can tell, the Katyushans and the Orks care more about getting away from that thing than fighting each other, so we'll go with them."

"_Fighting alongside the Imperium. How very... Tzeentch."_

"Let's go. Can you make me invisible- provide a little cover?"

"_Afraid not. The combination of warp energies needed to refract light tends to react... catastrophically with Khornate warp energy like the stuff coming from Aggravah."_

"Oh. That's not good. Just... uh, charge the Gauntlet."

"_Here we go..."_

The gauntlet on my right hand began to hum. The plates covering the overlarge fist retracted back, folding into each other in a distinctly physically impossible fashion. This exposed a layer of small sliding tiles, each inscribed with a single rune. Glowing with midnight blue fire, the runes moved faster and faster, forming intricate patterns of blue warpfire over the glove. After a few seconds, the air around the glove exploded as the runes maintained a field of deadly Warp energy around my fist. As my hand moved, it left odd afterimages in the air.

"All right, chum. Let's do this."

"_Ready when you are, Sebell!"_

I stood rapidly, vaulting over the top of the barrier, the gauntlet trailing blue energy.

"NOBISCVM TZEENTCH!"

The first thing which struck me when I entered the square was a corpse.

_Half of a corpse._

The Next thing was the other half of that corpse, which I noticed to be that of an Imperial in Cadian fatigues. Sliding sideways, I managed to duck under it, and kept running. Judging from the screams coming from the propaganda center, the Assassin had made it its first target, dealing with the humans inside efficiently...

_... If somewhat messily._

Further across the square, I saw a large group of Orks and a considerably smaller group of Imperials running for their lives. Their war seemed to have been temporarily abandoned in favour of escape, and both groups seemed to be making good time towards a relatively clear street leading off to the west. I was quickly distracted by yet another corpse, this time accompanied by a chunk of broken masonry the size of my head.

_The Assassin's favourite tactic seemed to be straight-on punches, which hit with enough force to knock chunks out of just about anything._

Acting instinctively, I raised the gauntlet, brushing my index finger and thumb together to activate the firing mechanism.

_Ding_

The sound was a deep, sonorous chime, which resonated in the air for a few seconds. At the same time, the gauntlet-

_Let's call it the Gauntlet (with the capital letters). Sounds more dramatic._

-the Gauntlet let out a wave of blue fire. It moved only slightly faster than my running speed, drifting outwards in a thin veil which faded from blue to inky black as it moved. As the curtain of energy hit the corpse and chunk of concrete, they both faded to the same inky black shade, and they stopped dead, suspended in midair. I ducked around them, still running, and felt a gust of wind at my back as they exploded with another-

_TONG_

I noticed a brief lull in the cacophony of brutal extermination coming from the former Imperial redoubt.

"Think they killed that thing?"

"_Well, maybe- Nope. Nevermind."_

The Assassin had made a running jump of the roof, soaring impossibly high in the air. Its impossibly long arms, visibly bloodstained even from the distance I was at, trailed through the air like streamers. I readied the Gauntlet for another attack, but it seemed not to have noticed me. It had certainly noticed the Orks, and proceeded to land directly in the center of their rapidly fleeing contingent. There were a few roars of Orkish rage, followed by several unpleasant ripping noises.

"_Eurgh... Tzeentch damn. That's just... Khornate. I think Aggravah would enjoy this more than I do."_

"I didn't know bone could splinter like that..."

Regardless of whether or not I actually wanted to be any closer to something which could (literally) pulp Orks, I was rapidly nearing the combined Greenskin-Imperial escape route. Through the rapidly-dwindling crowd of Orks, I could just see a handful of Imperials, several of them moving with assistance from those ro**c**ket boots of theirs.

"_Well, there go the Orks."_

The second-to last Ork had just fallen. The final alien, realising his plight, stopped and turned to face the oncoming Assassin. He looked to be a Nob, or some minor-level Boss. He lifted a large cannon, pointing its many barrels towards his enemy.

"WAAAGH!"

I didn't hear the gun fire- my helmet's noise safeties cut out after a few milliseconds of eardrum-shattering noise. What I did see was a continuous _line _of orange-red electrical energy stream towards the Assassin, picking it up bodily and throwing it across the square. It hit the ground, hard. The Ork had already turned, stomping off in the same direction as the Imperials with surprising speed. I caught up to him first.

_He was pretty preoccupied by the task of getting the hell out of there. That's probably why he didn't kill us on sight._

I ran along beside him, noticing the powerful, clunky servomotors on his armour-clad legs which allowed him to move with such speed. He spoke first, panting as he ran.

"'Allo, Humie. Is you one of dem Chaos boys?"

"Er... yes, as a matter of fact." I replied, a bit nonplussed.

"Good. Anyfing's better dan da big Metal Man tryin' ta krump me."

"Thank you?"

"Worl... He's trying ta kill da Humies an' da Orks, an 'e's too dam good at it. When me boyz was fightin you lot, it was fun. Dis ain't fun anymore."

"Huh."

I pulled ahead, trying to catch up with the Imperials. There were three of them- a short, older man, wearing a slightly ornate combat uniform which marked him out to be some higher-ranking officer, one of the soldiers with rocket boots who was currently sailing along at rooftop- level, and the person in power armour who I'd seen earlier. The rocket-jumper noticed me first, and called down to his superior.

"Triarch! Behind you! Unidentified bogey! Power Armour! Human!"

_It's worth pointing out that He was, in fact a She. Don't get your hopes up, you out there. There will be no sappy romance in _my _story. Bah._

The older man looked back over his shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was unusually low and gravelly, despite the rushing of the wind. He also seemed unusually fit- he wasn't panting at all, despite the speed we were all travelling at.

"Ahh... A Tzeentch worshipper. Tell me; are you here to kill me, too?"

"Wh- How does everyone know what I am? Is there some big sign on my forehead that says I WORSHIP THE DARK GODS?!"

"Actually, yes. Whoops, hold on."

We swerved around the burnt-out wreckage of a Leman Russ.

"You've got an icon of Tzeentch on your forehead. I've fought you guys before."

"Ah. Why is that thing trying to kill us?"

"I can honestly say I have no idea. Anyways, we just need to stay alive until night-time."

"Why's that?"

"It never attacks after the sun's set."

"I suppose that's somewhat reassuring."

There was a shout from the armoured figure.

"Gagarin be praised! Sunset!"

I looked up, relieved, and saw he was right. The last rays of the dim Namaskarian sun were just visible over the horizon. Suddenly, night had fallen. The old man gave a whoop of relieved laughter, and slowed to a halt, wiping the sweat from his forehead. His armoured compatriot did the same, but I couldn't see the girl with the rocket boots. I was dimly aware of the Ork clanking to a stop off behind us. The man looked me up and down. He was wearing thick, armoured combat fatigues, with a cloak in snow camo thrown over his shoulder. He wasn't wearing anything on his head-

_A frankly foolish decision in any combat situation._

-And he had a full head of grey hair, drawn back into a topknot, with a large beard- unusual for a military man. He gave a paternal smile, his odd yellow-brown eyes lighting up with surprising warmth.

"I'm Triarch Ivan Zulonovich Irohov, of the 13th Katyushan Sputnik Support Army, and- _Apoli_!"

I didn't have time to inquire about what he meant, because at that point someone set my head on fire.

_From behind. Ouch._


	3. In Which Protagonists Explain Themselves

The burst from the flamer had surprisingly strong recoil- I rocked forward, helmet scanners confirming that whoever had shot me was directly behind me. There was a moment of panic-

_If I recall correctly you said something along the lines of "OhmygodImonfire!!!"_

- And then I realised that I was wearing a helmet. A _fireproof _helmet. I smirked, then threw myself backwards, waiting for the crunch of the crown of my skull impacting someone's ribcage. Imagine my complete surprise, then, when no one was there.

_I really saved you on that one!_

Uh-huh. I was flying backwards through the air, when Root reached down, planting his fingers firmly into the ground. I flipped over, my left arm bending at an impossible angle as I landed lightly on my feet. My head snapped around, helmet scanners identifying possible cover nearby. I didn't really need it, because the person I was after was hanging from a window frame across the street, brining her flamer to bear. I stretched out my left hand, Root reacting to my very thought. The Imperial screamed, her voice cold and high.

"BURN, Heretic! Di-"

She was interrupted by a flare of energy as the air around her solidified.

_Isn't transmutation magic wonderful?_

Root maintained the bubble of energy, and I guided it to the ground, releasing the Imperial well before her feet touched. She landed with a pained grunt. Behind me, Irohov stepped forwards.

"Corporal Osavin! Cease fire! Now is not the time for violence!"

She growled under her breath.

"With all due respect, Triarch- this... _man_ is a heretic! Why aren't we killing him!?"

Irohov sighed.

"While I do agree that the worshippers of Chaos are not to be trusted-"

"And I'm going to take that as a compliment." I interjected.

"-In this case anyone who isn't trying to kill us is an ally. Stand down. You too, Rojo. Oh, and by the way, Azul- next time, don't make 'Triarch' sound like an insult."

Corporal Azul Osavin stalked past me, her flamer still running. She wore a long camouflage cloak, with a thick winter uniform underneath similar to Irohov's. Her flamer essentially looked like a rocket, with the nose cut off and a stock stuck in place. Judging by the recoil it could produce, it was exactly that. Her lower legs were encased in a metal framework which held several rocket nozzles and fuel tanks. On her head was a low furred cap, with two ear flaps tied below her chin. Her eyes were concealed by bone-coloured goggles with thin, slit-like eyepieces. She spoke, and when she did her voice was possible the single most alarming thing I've ever heard.

"Frankly, you scum; I don't really care what the Triarch says. You make one step out of line, and I will _end_ you. Do I make myself clear?"

_It wasn't so much what she was saying that was frightening- it was just that her voice made you feel like she was going to tie you down and do unspeakable things to you until you bled to death._

I was momentarily at a loss for a snappy comeback. Fortunately, Root wasn't.

"_Boo!"_

"Gaaah!"

She flinched in shock, glancing at Root, then back at Irohov. Without another word, she stormed away.

"Well done, Root."

"_I have a way with women."_

I trotted over to where Irohov was engaged in a whispered conversation with Osavin and the person in the huge suit of armour. I noticed the Warboss, who had been lurking a distance away, follow me. As I approached, Irohov turned to face me, another genuinely warm smile on his wide face.

"Ah, heretic. Allow me to introduce to you Corporal Rojo Osavin. I believe you've already met his sister, Azul."

The figure in the suit inclined his head. His suit was somewhat like Space Marine power armour, only chunkier and bulkier. The back was loaded with two huge fuel tanks, surmounted with a wide rack which I assumed was for carrying missiles. When he spoke, his voice echoed tinnily from a small speaker mounted on the front of the wide, flat faceplate.

"I would say hello, as one combatant to another, but since you will probably stab me in back anyway, I will refrain. Da?"

"Erm... sure."

Irohov broke in.

"Now, I think we'd probably all appreciate it if you introduced yourself."

"_How in the Warp did you ever make command in the Guard?"_

A ripple of shock ran around the group. Rojo brought his arms up, exposing the two huge flamers mounted on each wrist. Azul gasped, and Irohov took a step back, his face impassive. He spoke first.

"Never mind, then. I'd appreciate it if you _both_ introduced yourselves."

"Sebell Vivat, Eye of Tzeentch. I'm sure in any other circumstances I'd be reducing you to your component atoms, but this is a special occasion."

When Root spoke next, his voice boomed in what I like to call the 'Scary Daemon Voice'.

"_**TREMBLE, MORTALS! I AM i, LORD OF CHANGE, MASTER OF REALITY, RULER OF YOUR FATE!"**_

There was another long, awkward pause. Then he continued in his normal voice.

"_But seriously- how did you ever survive basic training. How is someone this _liberal _in charge of anything? It's a wonder a commissar hasn't shot you yet!"_

I didn't see Irohov's hand move. Suddenly, they were holding two pistols which resembled scaled- down versions of Azul's weapons. He was pointing them at my face.

"The reason I'm in charge, daemon, is just... well, you get the idea." His face shifted from the stone like mask it had been wearing back to a friendly, interested expression. "Now. You, the Ork. Please, come over here." As the alien shambled over, Irohov slid the guns back into concealed holsters on his wrist. When he spoke next, it was in excellent Orky.

"You is pretty flash, boy! We 'Perials almost didn' kill ya!"

The Ork, to my surprised, laughed uproariously.

"I likes you, Humie! You 'az _style_. If we is not gonna kill each other fr'a bit, then I'ze fine wif dat. I is Boss Shazo Mordakka, da Shootiest Ork Eva'."

Then Azul lost her composure.

"Wh- What? WHAT?! Are you suggesting, Triarch, that we ally ourselves with xenos _and_ heretics!?! To even think of such... such treasonous behaviour is an affront to His glorious and most holy Imperium! How dare you!"

Irohov sighed dejectedly.

"Azul, Azul, Azul. Tell me- would you rather die messily and painfully now, or survive to serve the Imperium for a little longer. Surely you know the saying 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'? I know you're no fool, Azul. I'd much rather fight alongside Lord Vivat and Boss Mordakka here than be killed by that infernal machine. If you want to have a glorious last stand, go ahead. I just won't be part of it."

Osavin sputtered for a second, visibly trembling.

"I- I- Bu- Wha- ... Yes, Triarch. As you wish."

Irohov turned to Mordakka and I.

"Now. Lord Vivat- if that's an acceptable title- Boss Mordakka, does that arrangement sound satisfactory?"

I shrugged.

"I was going to suggest the same thing. Sure."

The ork looked confused.

"Kwestion- is there gonna be fightin'?"

Irohov grinned evilly.

"Ya, boss. More shootin' an' killin' than you can possibly 'magine!"

"Sounds good ta me! WAAAGH!"

Root spoke up.

"_Wow. An Ork, a heretic, an old man, a young woman, and a guy who's probably compensating for something. This is going to be... interesting."_

It was a few minutes later. Irohov, perhaps wisely, had suggested we could all use a breather. His plan was to find a safe place to bunker down the next morning- a place where we could weather the Assassin's onslaught long enough to find a way off Namaskar. Despite the obvious tension in the air, the group at least looked fairly relaxed. Irohov was humming softly to himself, occasionally taking swigs from a hip flask, Azul was staring distractedly off into the distance, Mordakka was polishing one of immense guns with a dirty rag, and Rojo was staring into the fire. He had retracted the faceplate of his armour, exposing the huge, elaborate flame tattoo which covered the left side of his face. The tattoo was surmounted by a huge horizontal scar, going from the bridge of his nose to his left ear. The scar had obviously taken out his eye, which was replaced by an odd gold-coloured mechanical implant.

_He wasn't the only one with an open faceplate._

That's true. I'd popped the translucent visor of my armour, and was savouring the feel of the chilly night air on my cheeks.

_You didn't mention yourself. Your audience needs to know something about who their narrator is, and if you won't tell them, then I will._

Fine. The rest of the group had reacted as I'd expected to my appearance-

_Most people don't have glowing orange pentagrams for eyes-_

-But the overall mood, while still chilly, was considerably less tense than it was. Rojo broke the silence, his guttural Katyushan accent cutting through the air.

"Ork. I notice you have large cannons. Unusually well maintained for your species. What are they, please?"

Mordakka looked up.

"Dese? Dese is me Raildakkas. I got dem from da Tau boyz."

I was intrigued.

"Tau? It's not often you see an ork wielding Tau weaponry."

He smiled with a certain hint of... wistfulness; if that's the word I'm looking for.

"When I wuz just a Boy in da mob, I went onna Waagh ta krump dem Tau. One day, I saw a bunch of Tau wif dese real big, real shooty blue kannon fings. Dey was real flash, so I took one of 'em. I liked how shooty they was, but they was too big n' eavy to lug about all da time. So me an' Shootnik made 'em smalla, an' put nine of 'em together, and den I 'ad me Raildakka."

Rojo looked curious.

"Shootnik? That sounds like Katyushski name!"

"Shootnik's me rigga. 'E's a grot, but 'e knows 'is place. Shootnik!"

There was a rustle from the bulky pack slung over Mordakka's wide shoulders, and a small, pointy-eared green head poked itself out form one of the outer pockets.

"Worrisit?" he squeaked.

"Shootnik, tell da Humies here about da Raildakka."

The grot scrambled fully out of the pocket, his tiny body swaying under the weight of crudely improvised mechanical tools and at least six wide bore pistols. He clambered up on top of Mordakka's pack, and, taking a deep breath, launched into what sounded like a well-practiced speech.

"Da wepins of da Tau is right shooty, right, but they's too big. Dere EM coils is much too bulky, and, while dey ensure a safe firin' sekwince, dey's a burden on da handla 'cause of dere clunkiness. We took da rail teknologee an' made it real small like, so yuz get a 'quivalent fire output from a smalla shoota. Den we insulated da rails to make it so's a buncha rails cud shoot together, an' we gave 'em a 'draulic assisted mounting an' shared ammo reserves, an' there ya go!"

Just as quickly as he'd appeared, he was gone, scuttling back into the pocket of the pack. It took me a few seconds to register what he'd said.

"So, Mordakka... what Shootnik was just saying is that you _miniaturised _the Tau railgun system while maintaining the same output?"

"I fink so, yeah. 'Arf th'time I can't even understand 'im."

"I do not see the point. What is big deal with making unholy xeno weapons very small? Does that not remove point of large cannons?" Rojo interjected.

"Oh no, Rojo. Not at all. Do you know what a Tau railgun is? It's a man-portable device that fires solid slugs so fast they can go _through_ a Leman Russ. The problem is, they're bulky and difficult to handle. Our friend the Boss here has managed to shrink them down enough so that he can fit... nine, if I'm judging your weapon right, in the same space as one. While still maintaining the same level of power. Do you follow?"

There was a pause while Rojo digested all this. Then, he began to chuckle. When he looked up at us, there was an evil glow in his non-mechanical eye.

"You know, Boss, I think I approve of your taste in weaponry! Any chance you could be lending me one of these Raildakka devices?"

"Nuh-uh, Humie. Youse is a good fighta, but Mordakka neva abandons 'is two Raildakkas!"

"You have _two_?"

"Dat's right. I is Mordakka, ready ta unleash... erm..."

There was a brief moment of mental arithmetic.

"Eight-er-teen barrels of Waagh!"

Rojo and I sighed, lost glorious imagining of firepower.

"_Seriously, Sebell, will you stop thinking about guns? You're not the only one inside your head, you know!"_

The sound of Root's voice shocked the others back into alertness. Obviously they were still having trouble accepting that my left arm was an independent, free thinking entity.

_Or maybe it was the way they heard my voice in their heads, but not their ears._

"_Look, we all know we're screwed if we don't have a place to hide come sunrise. We've got about... twelve hours to bunker up somewhere that machine can't find us. Triarch Irohov- you're the commander here. Any ideas?"_

Irohov sighed, screwing the cap back on his flask.

"I'm sorry, i- "

"_-I'd prefer it if you called me Root."_

"Root, then. I'm trying to think of a way to save our collective behinds, but I simply don't know the region. I didn't exactly have time to reccy round when I was fleeing with the remnants of the Guardsmen."

"_So we're trapped with no support in a region we don't know, and we're being followed by some ancient omnicidal killing machine."_

"In essence, yes."

Irohov gestured towards me with his flask.

"Need a drink, Sebell? You're looking down."

I smiled wryly.

"Thanks, but no. I'm not going to take anything form a man whose goal in life is technically to exterminate me and anything else that opposes the Imperium."

"Fair enough. I should inform you, though, that Katyushan ice wine is considered one of the finest semi-alcoholic drinks know to Mankind."

"_**STAY. ON. TOPIC.**__Thank you. Now. Anyone. Does anyone have _any_ idea of where we can go?"_

To our collective surprise, Mordakka grunted an affirmative.

"I knows a place. A Tau bunka'. Me n' me Boyz tried ta get inside 'bout a month ago, but da doors was too fick. If we could get inside dere, we oculd 'old off one of dem Titans."

"_Well, a bunker that's impossible to enter is better than no bunker at all. Let's get moving!"_

"It's a long way to Tsiolkovsky;

It's a long way to home.

It's a long way to Tsiolkovsky;

To the sweetest girl I know!

Goodbye, you snowy city!

Farewell Voshkod Square!

It's a long long way to Tsiolkovsky;

But my heart's right there."

Irohov sang as he marched, with Rojo and Azul occasionally joining in. Mordakka and I were in the lead, mainly in charge of blasting away any obstacles we encountered- downed buildings and the like. We'd left the relatively untouched zone within the Ork-held zone, and were passing through another band of Imperial-controlled territory. Are destination was another nearby Orky fort- one which was supposedly built partially on top of Mordakka's supposedly invincible bunker.

_We weren't in any hurry- it was only a few hour's walk, and Namaskarian nights are long._

I slowed down my pace, the Ork not noticing me, and dropped into formation beside Irohov. He paused in his singing, and gave me a sidelong glance.

"Lord Vivat. Root. What's up?"

"I have a few questions. Mainly about you guys- er, the Katyushan regiments as a whole. I hope you don't mind if-"

"Not a problem. Ask away."

"Well-"

_Your attention please! What follows is what the Author (Of Fate, and by that I mean Tzeentch.) likes to call backstory! He likes it, we don't! Ain't that right, Vivat?_

I dunno, some backstory could be nice. Tzeentch knows best I suppose.

_Damnit! Why is everyone against me! Ah well. Back to the story._

"- What's with the different uniforms and weaponry- I mean, Azul's got her rocket boots and that cape, Rojo's got the big armour, and you- what is a Triarch, anyways?"

"I understand. Let's go from the top. Katyushan Support Armies-"

"Which are essentially the same as Regiments, I take it."

"Right, only smaller- anyways, they're intended to operate alongside other armies. Because our combat focus is almost entirely siege-based, the Armies tend to get divided up, often down to platoon level, and split among allied forces to deal with any hardened targets that need cracking. The Katyushan infantry is divided into three major divisions- Rocket Troop, Advance Spotter, and Energia. The Rocket Troopers are our basic infantrymen, equipped with simple, easy to use siege weapons- they're the largest division. The Advance Spotters, like Azul, are our light fast attack force- they get inside enemy lines, plant beacons to help in long-range fire planning, and then get out- they're our elite force, and there are only a few platoons per Army. Finally, there's the Energias- the elite of the elite. They're heavy assault forces, masters at close-range combat. They go in where no one else can. In the whole of the Katyushan Armed Forces, there are only about 500 Energias at any given time."

"So I got lucky- all the wimpy, untrained normal troops got killed. It's nice to have a bodyguard of veterans."

At that moment Azul dropped down from rooftop level.

"Heretic! How dare you speak ill of the glorious Katyushan Sputnik Guard!"

"Now now Azul. Calm down. For all our sakes, please calm down. That being said- if I _ever_ hear you insult the brave troopers of Katyush again, I will have no qualms about holding you down while Azul here beats your face in with a lead pipe."

"S-Sorry. Ehehe... oh Tzeentch, please kill me now."

"Now, I believe you'd asked a question about Triarchs?"

"Y-yessir. I mean, yeah!"

"Triarchs are sort of like what you'd get if you cut a General into three pieces- each Support Army has three Triarchs, each in charge of a different branch of the army. For instance, in the 13th, I'm in charge of logistics, fortifications, and Naval support. The other two Triarchs (they're dead, I'm afraid) were Granda Boski, in charge of infantry and morale, and Metagi Rayvin, in charge of armoured divisions and intelligence. The Triarchs collaborate in forming strategies, and having three equally-ranked commanding officers means a Support Army can be split up without breaking the chain of command. That isn't how the full system works, but it's pretty much impossible for outsiders to understand without years of training. Got it?"

"Kind of. It's a lot of information to process."

"You're a Tzeentch worshipper. You're all about knowledge. Speaking of which, I've got a question for you. Actually, for Root."

"_Yes?"_

"If you're a Lord of Change, how come you aren't, well..."

"_Blowing up mountains? Turning you minds to paste with a flick of my beak? __**TALKING LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME?**__**"**_

"Precisely."

"_Honestly? I got bored. It was fun at first- when I got my first believers, grew in power, learned how to read the future... all that. Nothing's exciting when you know how it's going to end. So I decided to scale it back. I found Sebell at one of the schools for future Eyes, and we made a pact. I'd keep him alive, if he showed me the Universe through the eyes of a mortal. I dialled back my powers considerably to keep myself from uncontrollably mutating my host... and here I am."_

"Interesting. What I actually meant was, if you want us to help you, why not control our minds? You're a daemon of trickery and manipulation, after all!"

"_To be honest... I can't. I just never developed the ability to control people mentally. I can control 'em physically, for sure, but mentally? Can't be done. It doesn't help that Sebell has only slightly above average Warp sensitivity- he can see through daemonic illusions and snipers tend to miss him, but that's about it."_

"Well... that was... revealing. You know, I now have all the information I need to stab you in the back."

"Honestly, Irohov? You're trying to stab agents of Tzeentch in the back? Seriously. Seriously?"

He grinned.

"That's correct."

"BAHAAAAAHAAAHAAAAHAAAAGHKKAHA!"

"_Pffft- eheheHEHEHE! Please. Stab us? In the baHAHAHA!"_

At that moment, Mordakka came clomping back, the whine of his mechanical legs cutting through our collective maniacal laughter.

"Oy! Stop laughin' ya gits! Dere's da bunka!"


	4. In Which Lots Of Stuff Happens

Mordakka's bunker wasn't visible at first under the huge wreck of the Ork fortress- it looked somewhat like a cross between a pile of garbage and a small castle. Here and there were visible huge pitted slabs of wall, surmounted by massive gun batteries and missile emplacements. At the base of one large wall section was visible a largeish blot of tan metal- the distinctive appearance of Tau architecture.

_Unfortunately, the fortress itself was surrounded by a series of ring walls, trenches, minefields and various other defensive devices. What the Orkish defense lacked in uniformity and style, they certainly made up for in sheer size and brute strength._

As we took in the panorama, Azul spoke first.

"So, xeno, we're going to have to get through all of that?"

"Dat's right. Da Fort of Krumpalot. Boss Orkamina built it."

I couldn't reist letting out a giggle.

"Orkamina?"

"_Pfft... I bet he wasn't very manly."_

"'E wasn' manly, 'E was Orky! An' everyone 'oo larfed at 'is name ended up wiv a poky stikk da size of a tree stuck frew 'em."

"_Oh. Somehow I'm not surprised."_

"Orkamina liked 'is traps 'n walls 'n for-tee-fee-cayshuns. If wez wanna get to da bunka, s'gonna take a bit."

_And it turns out, he was perfectly right. I'm sorry to self-abridge here, but all that really happened next was an extraordinarily long period of frustration, booby traps, explosions, and really, _really_ tedious problem solving._

Who could forget the mines that bounced in the air before exploding? Or the one-way forcefield traps? Or maybe the hidden spike pits? The neurotoxin emitters?

_I waqs surprised the Orks had managed that kind of high technology._

Frankly, I've found that when it comes to Orks, one should never be surprised. They _always_ have another trick up their sleeves. Anyways, we made our way through the traps. That which we couldn't break through through use of telekinetic magic and luck, we blasted through.

_In other words, Mordakka would pick a flimsy-looking wall and shoot at it 'til there was a hole large enough for us to climb through._

But in the end, we made it to the bunker. It was built into the wall of a sheer cliff, at the top of which rested the primary keep of the Fort. All we could see of it was an immense gate, with doors at least five meters high. The doors themselves were pitted and scarred by gunfire and explosives, but none had managed to break through. Unable to break through the door, the Orks had satisfied themselves wih using the sturdy rockcrete platform it was built on for piling up what looked like captured Imperial weapons. We stood before the gate, contemplating in silence its sheer immensity. Irohov spoke first.

"Mordakka, did the Orks here attempt to dig through? Did they do any tunnelling?"

The Ork rubbed his chin.

"I fink dey tried- dey found dat da bunker even went unnerground-dey just ran inta real fick walls around it."

"Ah. That rules out that possibility. We need to find a way inside that doesn't leave a gaping hole. Any ideas?"

Root spoke up.

"_I think we might be able to find a magical spell to get inside. Unfortunately, I can't teleport us if I don't know what's inside._

Azul glared at me.

"Whatever you do, daemon, do not attempt to besmirch our faith with your foul sorcery."

"_I wouldn't know how to besmirch anything even if I wanted to. So, Sebell, any spell ideas?"_

I wracked my memory for precision destructive spells.

"Hmm... Magnusson's Combustive Sphere?"

"_Nah. Too hard to control when it's active. Great against tanks, but not fortifications."_

"Zumaki's Spiralling Disk?"

"_Bah. Too dangerous. It'd be fine if we were going against a Greater Daemon, but I don't want to risk that much energy exploding in my face. We need something more stable."_

"Stability, eh? How 'bout the Welles Temporal Displacer?"

"_Perfect. All right everyone, we're going to cast a spell that's fairly labour-intensive. There's no risk of it damaging you guys, but we'll need to be covered from outside distractions. How long 'til sunrise, Rojo?"_

Rojo glanced at the horizon. He seemed to have an instinctive grasp of exactly _when_ it was.

"We have approximately one and half hours until sunrise."

"_Uh-oh. To properly perform the Displacer, you need a little under two hours. Well, we might as well get started."_

Irohov cut in.

"What exactly is this Temporal Displacer?"

I fielded the question.

"It's a time modification spell. It shifts something forward in time until it collapses from disuse. It's a simple, stable spell, but it takes a really, really long time to cast properly. Ready , Root?"

"_Whenever you are."_

I raised my arms, muttering the words of Power under my breath. As I spoke, the ground around us shook. A huge cloud of dust poured from the earth, coalescing into a large spoked wheel in the air in front of my face. The dusty spokes collapsed inwards, reshaping themselves into a glassy, crystalline substance which glowed with an inner light. The spokes of the wheel began to rotate, moving so fast they were a blur. A small patch of the door began to shimmer, as if seen through a heat haze.

_Just a bit of explanation for you non-psykers out there. The Welles Temporal Displacer is a spell focused through a solid object- in this case, you need to transmute a diamond-spoked wheel out of the surrounding elements to properly channel temporal energy. No one's entirely sure why temporal spells need a material focus- they just do._

"How exactly does this work?" Irohov queried.

I glanced away from the spoke. Root was maintaining the spell, so I could do other things, but I couldn't move from the spot I was standing on or risk dissipating the flow of Warp energy.

"I can't exactly explain it to you, but eventually this door should crumble to dust. When we're inside, I can just reabsorb all the temporal energy I've released, and the process should undo itself. In the meantime, I'd make yourself comfortable. This may take a while."

"All right then. Rojo, Azul, make yourselves useful. See if you can't find anything useful in this pile of junk. Mordakka, youse shud be onna lookout fer any enemies, right?"

"If I sees 'em, I'll shoot 'em, how's 'bout dat?"

_So they started digging. After a while they obviously started finding stuff. Rojo managed to unearth a cache of Katyushan rocket fuel, so everyone got their flamers back in working order. Irohov found some kindo f hammer, which he strapped to his back, Azul picked out several heavily-sealed canisters, which the Triarch promptly took from her, and... oh yeah. Rojo also managed to dig up some still-functioning rockets, which he got attached to his firing rack. Needless to say, spirits were high. That is, until..._

"_Apoli_! Sunrise!"

"Are you sure, Rojo?"

"Trust me. This I know."

"Damn. Azul, find some high ground."

Irohov pulled out a scoped, stub-barreled weapon from the pile.

"Take this Strela, give us some sniper cover. If you see anything, shout."

"With pleasure, Triarch. I will rain flaming death upon the heads of the Emperor's enemies."

"Sure you will. Mordakka, duz ya see da Metal Man?"

"Nope. I'm gonna be ready fer 'im."

"All right. Root, Vivat, how're you doing?"

"_Not bad. Things are on schedule. We've quadrupled this thing's age, and the rate of aging is accelerating as planned. We'll get it cracked on time."_

"Yep, Irohov, he's pretty much got it."

"Good. Excellent. We have to be-"

"Triarch! It's back!"

"_Apoli._ All right. Mordakka, if you have any heavy weapons, now would be an excellent time to break them out. Rojo, get those rockets locked. Fire on my command. Azul, do what you do best. Sebell, if there's anything you could do to help, it'd be much appreciated."

As he spoke, he was shuffling through the piles of rubble, digging up some cover for us. Mordakka was readying his two Raildakkas, their eighteen barrels crackling with orange energy fields. Meanwhile, something was moving under the top of his pack. Suddenly, it flopped open, revealing Shootnik sitting in the middle of what looked to be some kind of turret assembly, cunningly built into the top of the pack. He flicked a switch, and two short-barrelled cannons popped from the mechanical frame, along with a simple gun sight and trigger mechanism. He spun them back and forth, apparently satisfied with the whirring mechanism.

I laughed in shock.

"Mordakka, what in the hells is that thing?"

"Dis is Shootnik's Flakadakka. 'E uses it ta cover me blind spots, 'an shoot down da flying things what I can't hit."

There was another call from Azul's nest, higher up on the exposed hillside.

"It's within range! Damn is it ever moving fast. Heads up!"

I craned my head around to where the others were looking, noting the silvery dot bouncing up and down over the various walls. It moved closer and closer, easily dodging the rockets that Azul sent its way. It landed lower on the hillside with a nasty crunching noise, kicking up a cloud of dirt. It strode gracefully up the hill, easily sidestepping the roaring bursts of railgun fire sent its way, as well as the furious barrages of rockets that Rojo let off. Suddenly, it broke into a loping run, clearly intending to move in for the kill. Just as suddenly, there was a click, and it stopped dead, almost as if it had run into a wall. It looked this way and that, in obvious confusion. A voice rang out from some unseen speaker system.

"Ah. Mmmy Sinceresttt apologies for ttthe inconvenience. Please commme in."

The bunker door opened smoothly and quietly, and we were left staring into the darkness within.

The bunker was literally dark as pitch- and smelled like it, too. There was an odd aroma in the air, sort of like...

_Bleach, maybe? Ozone?_

I'm still not sure. Anyways, we entered, and as we did a low humming noise ran through the air. It sounded like something old and unused- probably a generator of some sort – was being brought back into operation. There was an electrical buzzing in the air, and several long lights flickered on in the high ceiling, filling the dusty air of the cavernous bunker with pale light. The room itself was strange-

_Something like a cross between a waiting room and a chemical refinery._

There were huge semitransparent pipes, filled with greyish gas, lining the walls. Scattered across the floor were various tasteful pieces of Tau artwork on pedestals, well-disguised computer terminals, and small groups of comfortable-looking chairs, designed for Tau backsides judging by their size. The room itself was long and oblong, with the door at one end of the oval and a huge vertical tank, also filled with grey smoke, at the other. Irohov looked around suspiciously.

"No one's here. Stay frosty. I don't like it."

I took a last look outside the doors. The Assassin was still standing there, looking bewildered.

_Or at least as bewildered as a metallic killing machine can look._

With a smooth hiss, the bunker doors began to slide shut. The Katyushans turned back, Azul making one last desperate run for the door. Meanwhile, Mordakka was panning the room with his Raildakkas, Shootnik covering his blind spots. The door closed with a click just before Azul reached it, and we were left in the dim light of the bunker. There was a hissing noise, and the same voice we'd heard outside came on over a sound system.

"Welcommme... I assummme you are all hummman? Buttt no. Ttthere is an Ork."

The voice was strangely distorted, as if the speaker was uncomfortable with Gothic. Each letter M or T was stuttered, for some reason- the word but became 'but-t-t'. There was also some strange interference at the edge of hearing- when it spoke, I could hear a rising and falling tone in my ear. Irohov, obviously somewhat unnerved, swung this way and that, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound.

"Show yourself!"

"Oh, where are mmmy mmmanners? I am Tttkhiss, Ammmbassador of ttthe Nntttocka. As for where I ammm... justtt look around."

"I'm not sure I get it." Irohov still looked suspicious.

Mordakka seemed to have an idea. He clanked up to the largest pipe, and gave it a tap with the end of one of his guns. It rang with a low, gonglike note.

"Youse is in da smoke!"

"Boss Mmmordakka, you are perfectttly correcttt. We Nntttocka are commmposed of a gaseous substttance... we only recentttly opened diplommmatic relatttions wittth the Tttau."

Mordakka shrugged, but Root, always the suspicious type, had some questions.

"_Hold on... how do you know his name?"_

"A very astttuttte questttion, i, also known as Roottt. I justtt so happen ttto be connecttted ttto ttthe Tttau securittty netttwork on Nammmaskar- or, attt leasttt, whattt's lefttt of ittt. I've been watttching you since ttthe beginning."

"_Why're you calling it Namaskar? If you work for the Tau, you don't really show it."_

"Roottt, I'mmm a living tttrinary commmputtter, and even I can'ttt pronounce ttthe Tttau nammme for Nammmaskar. Now, I assummme you have mmmany, mmmany questttions, stttarttting with how I mmmanaged ttto... block ttthe A.I.N. 01.

"_A.I.N. 01? You mean the machine?"_

"Alien Infiltttratttor (Non-organic) 01. It attttttacked Nammmaskar over a year ago. Ttthe Tttau mmmanged to... contttain ittt afttter discovering ittts weakness."

Azul broke in, sneering as she did when talking to nonhumans.

"Xeno- you're telling us that that... thing was on Namaskar the entire time? Why did it only show up now?"

"Pay atttentttion, and I'll tttell you. Please, have a seattt. Ttthis may tttake some tttimmme. We are perfectttly safe frommm ttthe A.I.N. Anyways... hold on. Is ttthere sommmething wrong wittth mmmy vocoder?"

"As a matter of fact, there is, Tkhiss. You're stuttering on the T's and M's."

"I was afraid of ttthattt. Sommme of mmmy tttranslatttion hardware has mmmalfunction frommm lack of mmmaintttenance. I'll switttch over ttto auxiliaries."

There was a long silence, and then Tkhiss's voice came back.

[Better? Good.]

It was considerably more artificial-sounding than the previous version, and the odd tone was more audible, but the stuttering had stopped. I settled myself into a comfortable, if dusty chair; Irohov and Azul did the same. Mordakka sat on the ground, cleaning his guns absent-mindedly, while Rojo contented himself with leaning on the wall.

[Almost a year ago to this day, the Earth Caste archaeologists unearthed a large device generator device of some kind underneath the South Pole. The generator, which was of Eldar origin based on power readings, was deactivated when the archaeologists attempted to move it, and... something broke its way out of the generator, brutally murdering all the archaeologists and nearby life forms in the process. All of this was caught on camera.

We contacted the Eldar, hoping they could help us. A group of Eldar traders, who were nearby at the time, identified what we called the A.I.N. 01 as pre-Fall military technology.]

"_Pre-fall? It'd have to be millions, maybe billions of years old!"_

[And it was. None of the Eldar we contacted could say what it was, only that it was Eldar. In the meantime, we had Namaskar's entire defence force keeping the thing pinned down well away from any population centers. Then we came up with the way to fight it entirely by accident. A group of Tau pathfinders was attacked by the A.I.N, but one member of the team survived completely unscathed. He told our researchers that the A.I.N seemed physically unable to approach him. It was discovered that this pathfinder had been carrying an Eldar-built data slate on him, apparently for use as a journal. That knowledge, combined with the readings from the destroyed Eldar generator, led us to a conclusion-]

"_That thing is stopped by Eldar power signatures!"_

[A very astute deduction. Realising this, we hurried to buy several dozen portable Eldar plasma generators. Using these, we contained the A.I.N in a bubble of Eldar EM signatures, freezing it in place. Following that, we built a massive research complex around it, for the sole purpose of keeping it contained. No expense was spared- we even had battlecrusier-calibre railguns pointed at the thing. The Eldar said they didn't know how to deactivate it, but they would help keep it contained. Everything was fine until the Orks attacked.]

Mordakka chuckled.

"Yup, we caught youse off guard, eh? What a Waaagh!"

[The Tau defenders realised they could no longer hold the planet with an exhausted defence force- the A.I.N had taken up considerable resources- so they sealed the A.I.N. facility, and left. In the commotion of the invasion, I panicked, I'll admit. I forced the Tau diplomats out of the embassy- this bunker here- sealed the doors, and waited. When the Imperials showed up, I was even more worried. Then, you foolish, foolish humans let the A.I.N out.]

Azul rose to her feet in a rage.

"What!? We would not unleash that monstrosity! How dare you accuse us of such-"

Irohov interrupted her.

"It's true. We did let it out. Not on purpose, though."

[The Triarch is correct. The Imperial force encountered a large, heavily fortified facility occupying a highly strategic position and defended by a handful of Orks. They wanted it, so they brought the Katyushans in. You were in charge of that group, Irohov.]

"That's... that's right. It was strange- the building was almost like a prison- all these huge gun mountings, but turned inwards instead of out. We couldn't break through the outer walls with conventional weaponry, so we used some Gurren drill rockets to undermine them."

[Exactly. And in that process, one of the rockets went haywire, digging into the foundations and knocking out two of the Eldar generators holding our prisoner in place. It wasn't much of an opening, bu the A.I.N. got out. It escaped into the Imperial siege force, and several weeks of devastation and running away later- here we are.]

Azul was white, and Rojo was sitting stock-still. Irohov drew in a shaky breath.

"We... we didn't know."

[It wasn't your fault. Even we didn't truly appreciate how damaging a lone machine could be.]

Irohov gave a bitter grin.

"If someone had told me a year ago that I'd be sitting here, being comforted by an alien made out of smoke, I'd probably have shot him in the face for being stupid. But that's life."

[Now, if that's over with, we need to do some serious planning.]

"_We?"_

[I'm coming with you, of course. I want to get off this rock just as much as you do.]

I nodded.

"Fair enough. Question is, though-"

[How are you going to get a massive tank of gas into a ship? Assuming you do have a ship?]

"_Hey! Interrupting Sebell's my job!"_

[My apologies. Now, I've prepared for such an eventuality. I will decant myself into a more suitable container.]

"By decant, do you mean...?"

[Yes. Literally. Give me some time to prepare. Starting compression sequence in 3... 2... 1.]

"_Wait... what?"_

The room began to hum with power. The gas inside the pipes was agitated, swirling towards the central tank. Several circular panels on the walls slid outwards, exposing the huge Tau generators behind them. The main tank tilted forward slightly, and several robotic davits descended inside it. They were carrying some kind of framework- all I could see were several metal rings and a large transparent globe, before my vision was obscured by the smoke. The smoke began to swirl, and there was a noise eerily reminiscent of a cleaning servitor's vacuum. The noise grew louder, and the smoke inside the tank began to clear. I saw a vague humanoid form taking shape, albeit one with a bulbous head and very spindly legs. With an abrupt popping noise, the activity stopped. The generators whirred to a halt, retracting back into the walls. The tank split lengthwise down the middle, leaving the strange figure exposed on a pedestal. It took a step, and-

_Promptly fell flat on its face._

[Well! I say! This is rather interesting, isn't it?]

Tkhiss' voice emanated from the figure, and it slowly struggled to its' feet, wobbling unsteadily.

"_What did you do to yourself?"_

Irohov, Rojo, and Azul were equally confused. Mordakka took it in stride with his usual Orkiness.

[The device you just witnessed compacts my form into a solid state, and then fits it with a mobile frame to allow locomotion. Does being solid always feel this... I don't even have a word to describe it! What fun!]

The thing that Tkhiss had become was, as I said before, roughly humanoid. The head was an oversized glass sphere mounted on a wide neck. The sphere was surmounted with a ring-shaped device, able to rotate independently of the rest of the head. Mounted on this was a small metal plate with several black camera lenses, seemingly able to slide over the disk. The arrangement was such that Tkhiss could look around, presumably using the cameras. The shoulders were composed of a wide curved metal plate, covered in tubing, pressure gauges, and thick rivets. The torso was a semi translucent mass of what looked like grey plastic, with thick riveted rings wrapped around it at regular intervals. The hands were large two-clawed pincers, and moved with audible pneumatic hissing sounds. Each ring was surmounted with some kind of valve, which let out occasional puffs of black smoke. At the waist, the torso was covered by a thick belt like ring, also covered with rivets and tubing. The legs were a complete change- they were spindly and mechanical, with hoof like feet (characteristic of Tau design) and a birdlike leg structure. Several bundles of exposed tubing were visible, filled with grey-

_Hem. Now that that's over, let's get back to the _story_, shall we?_

Oh. Right.

_You could have just said he looked like a cross between a Tau battlesuit and a fish tank._

Yes, but-

_**THE STORY!**_

Tkhiss weaved to and fro, obviously unsteady on his new legs. Quickly, he mastered the art of standing, and the camera lenses that constituted his 'eyes' turned to face all of us in turn. He continued his previous speech as if nothing had happened.

[Now. I'm going to need an inventory of all the weapons you possess, as well as possible escape routes. I don't have any functioning surveillance in most of the Imperial quarters, so I'm depending on you for that, Irohov.]

Irohov still looked somewhat shocked, but he quickly got his composure back.

"Weapons? All right. I've got my rocket pistols, three spare fuel cells for each, a Boost Hammer, and two tanks of Black Promethium."

_You could almost hear the capital letters dropping into place._

Azul, suddenly finding the control to stop gaping at Tkhiss, turned to Irohov.

"Black Promethium? That was what was in those canisters?"

"Correct."

[What is Black Promethium? And what are Boost Hammers?]

"Black Promethium is a volatile form of Katyushan promethium. We get it by mixing a variety of organic chemicals and fossil-fuel extracts with normal promethium. It burns hotter, and is far more volatile. Oh, and the smoke from its combustion is an incredibly powerful organic acid. Yep, that's it really."

Mordakka perked up.

"A burna wot shoots acid? Can I 'ave one?"

Irohov shook his head vehemently.

"Not a chance. You try using this stuff in a normal flamer; you'll melt your hand off. It has to be distributed in aerosol form, and then ignited at a distance.

[All right. Now, Boost Hammers.]

Irohov removed the hammer from the straps on the back of his uniform. It was unusually long-hafted, with a large blocky head, and a small trigger mechanism near the handle.

"Boost Hammers. Traditional Katyushan CC weapon. Bick chunk of metal with a rocket booster stuck on one end. You don't need powerfields with one of these."

[Interesting. Azul, your weapons, if you please?]

"Why should I tell you, xeno?"

[Fine then. You have a standard-issue Katyushan rocket flamer and two traditional _ulu_ trench knives, although you've made some modifications to them. Is that correct.]

"How di-?"

[I have an entire planet's databanks and surveillance system programmed into my brain. I'm essentially omnipotent on Namaskar. Rojo, I know you've got two twin-barrelled rocket flamers, and a dozen missiles left. Sebell, I'm not warp-sensitive, and I know very little about warp magic, so I'm going to assume you can deal with any possible threat. Is that a reasonable assumption, Root?]

"_Erm... yes. I think so."_

[And finally, Mordakka. I know you have your... Raildakkas, I believe they are called? And Shootnik has those Flakadakka, yes? Now. You have more weapons than that. They are?]

Mordakka looked back over his broad, armoured shoulder.

"'Ey, Shootnik! What guns we got back dere?"

After a few seconds, the Grot's small head popped up.

"One of dem trench mortas, two quad-barrelled autoshotgun pistols, and da Waaaghkannon."

[Waaaghkannon? And that is...?]

_Mordakka looked as reverent as it's possible for an Ork to look._

"It's da shootiest gun dere ever was. It is legend."

[Would it be possible to see this gun of legend?]

With near-religious solemnity, Mordakka reached back into his pack, pulling the weapon out of one of its multifarious pockets. It seemed to be some kind of enlarged, master crafted bolter, albeit one with heavy Orky modifications. The golden ornamentation had been painted read, and a huge metal set of teeth had been clumsily bolted to the front.

"_That's just a bolter!"_

"Nope. It's da Waaaghkannon."

Rojo stood up noisily, the popping of his joints audible even through the clunking of his armour.

"I am not normally the one to say this, but should we not be moving? I believe a fast start would be good, _da_?"

Tkhiss gave a surprisingly human sigh, accompanied by a hiss of static in my ears.

[Ah yes. My apologies. The Nntocka tend to be somewhat slow moving. Of course. We should make our exit immediately.]

Azul looked concerned.

"Hold on, xeno. Isn't that... Ain thing still out there?"

[Not a problem.]

Tkhiss waved a pincered hand, and, with a click, a robotic davit descended from the ceiling, holding a pale, oblong metal object of some kind. He took it, and presented it to us almost proudly. It was almost featureless, but small holes along its length glowed with purple light.

[Eldar plasma power cell. It will give of a large enough EM reading to keep the A.I.N away from us. Unfortunately, I don't know how long it will hold out.]

"_Knowing the Eldar, probably a few thousand years."_

[Well, one never knows. Unfortunately, this was the only Eldar mechanical device I could find that was of portable size, so if it fails, we won't have anything else.]

"_Oh. Marvellous."_

Irohov, who seemed to be having some back trouble, finally managed to get standing.

"Just where are we going, Tkhiss? How are we going to get off this Emperor-forsaken world?"

"_I agree. As far as we know, the orbital fleet is beyond saving, and none of us are pilots."_

Tkhiss let off a cloud of oily smoke from some unseen valve.

[I have it all planned out. Come, walk with me.]

He began to walk awkwardly towards the door, wobbling back and forth like a marionette. The door cracked open at some unseen signal, and, in the light of the morning we could see the Assassin.

_Just as bewildered as ever!_

Tkhiss, holding the Eldar device aloft like some kind of holy talisman, walked directly towards it, and seemed pleased as it began to back away, keeping pace with his walking speed.

[Follow me! We're perfectly safe. Just stay grouped together and we'll be fine!]

We rushed after him, Mordakka still covering the Assassin with both of his guns. It stayed away, and the doors shut behind us with a clang.

[Now. I'm going to head north. I believe there is a functional Katyushan command ship still on Namaskar, and, while the cameras in that area have lost power, I know where it is in relation to us.]

Irohov looked excited.

"Northwards? That means... the _Ragtime_!"

[Triarch Metagi Rayvin's ship, correct. It seemed undamaged, but it's a ways away. I estimate travel time of about two months.]

Azul stepped forwards.

"Two months? You had better be lying, alien!"

[Unfortunately not. I have calculated all relevant variables to a high degree. Sorry.]

Azul was getting angrier and angrier.

_Those Imperial types really need to calm down._

"SO WE'RE STUCK OUT HERE WITH AN EMPEROR-DAMNED KILLING MACHINE CHASING US, WE DON'T HAVE A PILOT, AND WE DON'T EVEN KNOW IF THE _APOLI_ XENO ARTIFACT KEEPING US ALIVE _WORKS_?!?"

_That's right. Two question marks and an exclamation point. It was that loud._

"YOU _APOLI__ AFEDRONŠČIK_ XENO! I'M GOING TO... AAAH! _ZAVINTIT' ! ZA VSJU HUYNJ-_ ohhh..."

Rojo picked up his unconscious sister, readjusting the dent in her hat where his armoured fists had struck.

"I apologise for her behaviour, Alien Tkhiss. She will be calmer in the future."

[I should hope so. I wouldn't have any reason to fear the A.I.N. if she's that ferocious in combat.]

Mordakka, who'd wisely been standing some ways away (although still close enough to keep the Assassin away) moved closer.

"'Old on, smoke boy. Wot is we gunna do wiv a ship? Non've us kan fly one a dem fings. If it wuz Orky, I cud maybe do it, but it ain't."

Irohov looked smug.

"I'm not going to give you a lecture on Katyushan design philosophy yet, but it's only a matter of time. Suffice it to say, even Shootnik could fly the _Ragtime_."

"_Why is it on the planet? Don't command ships stay in orbit?"_

"I told you I wasn't going to lecture, so I'll keep this short. Katyushan command ships are designed more for direct battlefield support from within a warzone than orbital support. They're essentially mobile command posts- when you drop a command ship it becomes the hub of whatever nearby military bases exist. Rayvin may have been completely insane (he was obsessed with something he called meem theory) but he maintained his forces well. If the _Ragtime _is there, it'll be functional.

[That solves that problem. However, there is still the travel time. I'd recommend moving out n-]

"_Hold on. I might be able to get us there faster."_

"Ah yes. In case you didn't know, Tkhiss, the servants of Tzeentch are renowned for their ability to get where they want to go well before anyone else." Irohov said.

[What are you proposing, Root?]

"_I'll cast Kleiner's Displacement Disk. It'll switch us with a comparable mass of matter in a target area. I can't manage teleportation 'cause I'm no longer connected to the warp, so this is the closest we'll get. It's a fairly slow transport spell though. It'll take us about a week to get anywhere."_

I looked down at my arm. Root was looking pleased.

_Don't ask the question 'How can a hand look pleased?' Just don't._

[That seems satisfactory.]

"Hold on." Irohov interjected. "There's something you're not telling us."

"_Weeeelll... Given the mass of the entire group, I'll have to move a considerable volume of air. We'll get there fine... only we'll be in a complete vacuum for a few seconds. Also, I need a precise image of where we're going, otherwise I can't localize the spell properly."_

"Um. That's a problem."

[I, for one, will not be affected by a vacuum overly. As for position data, I can transmit my latest camera scans of the area. I assume you'll be able to process the image data?]

"_Shouldn't be a problem. Send it over."_

[Done.]

"'_Kay. Got it. Yep... that's fine."_

I felt the need to speak.

"Now, about the vacuum. Rojo, Tkhiss, Root and I will be fine in an airless environment. Mordakka's physiology should keep him going long enough for air to come back, but Azul and you, Triarch, won't be in good shape."

"How long can we expect to be in a vacuum?"

"_Give or take ten 40 seconds. If you hyperventilate, get a lot of oxygen into your blood, you'll be fine. Azul's reduced metabolic activity should cushion her from the worst effects."_

"Let's do this, then. Mordakka, Rojo, close in. Breathe as much as possible."

He began to hyperventilate as Root chanted the spell.

"_K'hedy llamarrg! K'hedy llamarrg! K'hedkrayb! So long, ya stupid machine!"_

He gave a... one-finger salute to the Assassin. There was a burst of blue-green light, a rushing whoosh, and the scenery around us changed. We were no longer outside the Tau bunker. Now, we were standing on hard, if aged tarmac, surrounded by low metal structures that were distinctly Imperial. Irohov had keeled over, hands over his mouth to prevent his breath escaping. His eyes were horribly bloodshot, as were Azul's. Mordakka looked unphased, despite the fact that his skin was turning an unpleasant brownish colour. Rojo was standing impassively as usual, cradling his sister, and apparently unaffected by the transit.

"_Damn. We're off target by about fifty kilometres. Still, not bad, eh?"_

With a sudden whoosh and a cloud of dust as air returned. Now I could hear Irohov's gasping, ragged breathing as well as Mordakka's considerably louder panting inhalations. All of that was cut off by a keening electronic howl from Tkhiss.

[No! NO! This is... _inconceivable_!]

The others being too out of breath, I spoke.

"What? What is it?"

[The Eldar power cell failed some time during the transit. The A.I.N. can sense us now!]

"So? We're a world away!"

[No, we aren't. The A.I.N. demonstrated the ability to run at speeds considerably faster than sound when a target was a distance away. If it found a way to track us...]

Just then, there was a huge crack and a wave of air as a slim, silvery object shot by at rooftop height, impacting with a crash against a nearby Imperial hangar.

"_Wow. It sure knows how to make an entrance..."_


	5. In Which you know what? Forget it

I settled into a combat stance, taking control of Root.

"I have a plan. Revive!"

At the word, Azul glowed with azure light for a few seconds, gasped, clambered out of her brother's metal-clad arms, and stood on her feet. She was, somewhat understandably, annoyed.

"What th- Oh. It can wait."

Se had noticed the Assassin. It was walking towards us, slowly picking up speed and shaking off the debris from the building it had landed in.

"_Are you sure about this? You've never been much of a schemer."_

"Just this once. Stand back, everyone! All right, Root. I wanna cast a spell."

I let out a deep breath.

"I...cast... FLARE!"

Root moved of his own accord, flinging a sphere of brilliant light and energy at the Assassin. It struck head-on, exploding with a loud 'crack', arcing branches of lightning rippling over the metal being's skin. It stopped dead, swaying uncertainly and shaking its' head to clear it of the blinding Warp energies.

_Quick explanation here; Flare is a wide-spectrum energy field, designed to blind and disorient enemies. Completely nonlethal._

I sprinted forwards, forming the Rune of Binding with my fingers.

"Chains of Torment!"

There was a crunch and an inhuman scream as huge coils of metal chain tore out of the ground, wrapping themselves around the still-disabled Assassin. It struggled feebly, but could not free itself from the powerful spell.

"Maintain it, Root. Now. Silicon Shell!"

At that, I made another rune, and the air was filled with a swirling cloud of hazy dust. It swirled through and around the chains, hardening to a diamond-strength crust over them.

_You can really move quickly when you want to._

That I can. I stepped back to the group, Root still holding the integrity of both spells.

"Triarch, load Azul's flamer with that Black Promethium stuff. If only we had some more."

[Not a problem. I believe I can synthesize more of that!]

"Good. Do it."

As Azul and Irohov began to attach the heavy canister's to Azul's flamer, Tkhiss was fiddling with something on the large tank slung across his back.

_You didn't mention that when you described him!_

Well, I _would_ have if you hadn't interrupted me!

_Oh... yeah. Hehe. Um._

After a few seconds, he began to produce a jet of oily tarlike mist from the small spigots spread across his body. Irohov looked over, then jumped, almost dropping his canister.

"_Apoli!_ That's definitely Black Promethium! Be careful!"

I looked down at Root. The grey fog that composed his corporeal fog was glowing with pale grey light, as it normally did when he used magic.

"How're you doing?"

"_Fine, fine. I should be able to hold this thing for more than enough time."_

"Excellent."

I turned back to the group.

"Everyone ready?"

Azul hefted her flamer, staggering under the weight of the large tanks which were now strapped to it.

"Ready!"

Tkhiss snapped his pincers together with a resounding click.

[Prepared for thermobaric fuel distribution, Vivat!]

I smiled.

"Go."

They sprang forward at the same time, Azul's rocket boots flaring. She landed lightly in front of the chained Assassin despite the weight of her overloaded gun, and began to spray a cloud of liquid promethium, coating the chains. Meanwhile, Tkhiss was leaping through the air-

"_He seemed to be unusually light for his size. Probably all that gas._

-Trailing an even thicker cloud of the stuff from his back tank. Once a sizable cloud had built up the two seemed to reach a consensus. They began to run back towards us, sprinting full tilt away from the Assassin. Irohov watched them run past, then glanced at Rojo.

"Corporal Osavin, you have the honours."

Rojo began to count down as one of the rockets on his suit let out a thin plume of smoke.

"Three... Two... One... RUN!"

At that, the rocket launched and we turned and ran. I didn't see the detonation, but I certainly felt it. It wasn't so much a sound as a wave of superheated air. We were knocked off our feet as the air, now accompanied by clouds of dirt and debris, rushed back inwards with an ear-splitting CRACK. Next came a tremendously loud his; possibly the loudest white noise I've ever heard. When I looked back, everything was gone. The Assassin was lying at the bottom of a huge pit, whose walls were caked with an purplish muck. The air was filled with acrid steam.

"_Okay, I'm impressed."_

Mordakka raised his guns.

"It's gettin' up again! Ya didn't kill it, ya stooped Humies!"

"Well why don't you give it a try, Greenskin?" Shot back an obviously irritated Irohov.

"Fine. I will."

The Assassin had clambered to the edge of the pit, and was standing directly opposite us. Its' normally shiny skin was scorched and blackened, but otherwise it looked undamaged. Mordakka clipped the Raildakkas to two loops on the outside of his pack, pulling the Waaaghkannon from a hidden pocket and pointing at the Assassin. He seemed to be mumbling a prayer of some kind, although his words weren't audible. Suddenly, a Tkhiss' voice crackled in my ear.

[Lord Vivat, I don't want the others to hear this. If Mordakka insists on using that gun, we're doomed.]

"Oh? How so" I radioed back.

[I took the liberty of doing a detailed radar scan of the interior. It is not a functional weapon.]

"_What?"_

[It is merely a broken old bolter, with a few modifications to the exterior. It cannot fire.]

"_I think you might be wrong there..."_

[Oh my...]

Mordakka had activated the gun. Nothing happened for a few seconds. Then, with a whir, the gun sprang to life. The barrel extended, folding downwards and outwards into two spindly bipod legs. The main casing flipped up on a pistoned arm, sliding forward over the barrel, and blooming outwards as several plates expanded into place in firm defiance of the laws of reality. A small array of gearing extended from the top, growing rapidly in size and complexity as new components extended outwards. Within a few seconds, the bipod legs had thickened into a full-on heavy weapons mount, expanding faster than the eye could follow. The main casing was growing even larger, huge smokestacks and fans puncturing the skin. Electricity jumped between exposed electrodes, and various assemblies of gearing began to mesh together with an ear-splitting clattering. A platform extended from below the stock, picking Mordakka up and carrying him to the to p of the whirring mechanical monstrosity. At the front, three concentric rings of tubing had formed, and it rapidly became apparent that these were, in fact, thousands of gun barrels. Massive ammo chains slid across the surface of the gun, linking up and sliding into magazines the size of a smallish tank. From the center of the three rings a huge, clumsily welded metal sphere extended, a greenish aura blistering the air around it. With a pop, it suddenly collapsed in on itself, becoming a sphere of pure green light, dazzling in its intensity. Mordakka bellowed out a crazed war cry, his bulk only dimly visible between the huge smokestacks and other mechanical widgets. There was a crackle, and some form of PA system came to life on the machine.

"Lissen up, Metal Man, and lissen good! I c'n see that yer not frightened or nuffin! A day might come when da guns of da Orks fails, when our shootas jam an' our kannons don't go Boom! But it ain't this day! An hour 'a mal-funk-shuns n'broken barrels, when da zappas ain't workin ! But it ain't this day! This day I shoot! 'Old on ta yer teef, 'cause you ain't gunna be alive no more! DAKKA DAKKA DAKKA!!"

Then he pulled the trigger.

The Waaaghkannon shook, letting off a rumbling hum. A single tendril of green light extended from the ball of energy on the gun's tip, striking the Assassin in the center of the chest. It was lifted off its feet, unable to move. The hum from the gun took on a new tone, and I suddenly realised that my feet were no longer touching the ground. I looked around, understandably alarmed, and saw that anything not directly connected to the ground had begun to float freely. We were surrounded by a cloud of dust, small rocks, and bits of debris. The rest of the group was in the same situation as I was; they struggled against whatever invisible bonds held them in the air. Any further observation was interrupted, however, by the gun. The three rings of inward-pointing barrels opened fire all at once, sending a huge torrent of firepower into the heart of the sphere. The noise was deafening. As the firing continued, the sphere grew larger and larger, and the gun began to shudder visibly, smoke pouring from the vents all along its huge structure.

"_Do you feel that?"_

I was forced to think instead of speak from the cacophony of the weaponry.

"What?"

"_Even in this reduced state, I'm still feeling an obscene amount of psychic energy building up around that gun. I've never felt power like this before! It's-"_

DAKKA.

It was not so much a sound as a physical force. There was a blinding flash of green light, and everything faded away. For the next few seconds, I floated in an empty void, deafened by the sound of pounding drums.

DAKKA.

There was another burst of green light, and for a few moments everything changed. I was an Ork. That's the only way I can describe it. I knew what it felt to be Orky.

_You had to feel it to believe it._

I gripped my shoota, feeling the comforting weight of my choppa in my other hand. I let out a roar, charging towards the-

DAKKA.

With a tremendous roar, reality reasserted itself. I came to half buried under the remains of a building. I didn't seem to be injured, but I couldn't feel Root.

"Root? Are you there?"

"_Whew. That was a lot of psychic energy he just produced there. I think I'm fine."_

I shoved the rubble off my chest, blasting away a particularly large girder with a single Word of Power.

_Kym-blehr, if anyone's interested._

The sight that greeted my eyes when I'd clambered out of the pile was, to put it lightly, incredible. Every building in a wide area had been flattened, and several were on fire. The crater that the Assassin had been in was now supplemented with a wide, perfectly straight trench stretching away as far as the eye could see. Mordakka was standing at the end of it, clutching the now normal-sized Waaaghkannon in a firing position. I trotted over to him, seeing the other members of the group picking themselves up from where they had fallen.

"Mor-"

"Wait." His voice had an unusual trembling feel to it that I hadn't heard before. As I got closer, I realised he was crying, huge tears dripping off the tips of his tusks. Oddly enough, he was also smiling the happiest smile I'd ever seen anyone produce.

"What a-"

_The trench exploded. One continuous line of fire going off into the distance. When the smoke had cleared, it was now about twice as deep. I could see distant explosions on the horizon; whatever had come from the barrel of that gun obviously hadn't run out of steam just yet._

There was a long, drawn-out explosion, almost like a clap of thunder. Mordakka's hand dropped to his side. He bowed his head, snuffling. When he raised it again, he looked like he was seeing a God for the first time. There was awe, pride, joy...

_Everything you wouldn't expect to see in an Ork._

Shootnik had climbed onto his shoulder, and was leaning against his ear, bearing the same stunned expression. Mordakka spoke.

"Fer a few seconds, 'dere, I had almost enuff dakka. Almost enuff."

The group had gathered. There was a long, awkward silence.

"_Remind me to never, ever piss off an Ork again."_

Rojo took a clanking step forward, and slapped Mordakka on the shoulder.

"I am very impressed, Comrade Mordakka. It has been honour serving alongside you."

Azul looked humbled.

"Erm... what he said."

Irohov rubbed his hands together, obviously impatient.

"Yes, yes, very impressive. But I think we should get moving. I'd like to get to the Ragtime as fast as physically possible. If there are any functioning vehicles left in one of the hangars over there," He gestured to a section of the Imperial encampment which seemed relatively undamaged, "I'd recommend using them to our advantage. All right?"

[A vehicle would be useful. I don't have surveillance in this area, so I am unable to help with the search to the best of my abilities. My apologies.]

"Not a problem. Let's get going."

_It's kinda sad how quickly everyone forgot about Mordakka. I mean, he pretty much underwent a religious experience, and we just ignored him. Damn. Now I feel all guilty for not being nicer to him and Shootnik._

I can see your point, but can we get back to the story? There's gonna be a good bit!

_Oh yeah... okay._

We turned towards the area Irohov had indicated, he and the Osavins taking the lead. Tkhiss, Mordakka and I made up the rear. Aside from the crackling of the fires in the destroyed buildings and the sound of our footsteps, it was silent. Suddenly, I noticed an... odour.

"Awgh! Tkhiss, was that you?"

[No... If you are referring to the act of releasing waste gasses, none of the chemicals I produce have strong scents.]

It took me a few seconds to recognize the smell.

"Ozone."

I felt a familiar tingling in my sinuses, and an all-too-recognizable buzzing in my head.

"Root, are you-"

"_**HA! HA! HA! IT'S BACK, BITCHES! I FEEL THE WARP AGAIN!"**_

"Yes! That means the thing's dead, right?"

"_I don't- hold on. __Oh, no... I'm picking up Warp signatures in orbit. Khornate. Receiving a message from Tzeentch H.Q... please hold. Oh god. They tracked Aggravah. They're here to get their armour back. I can feel... Chaos Marines, yep. Berserkers... and the Blood Pact. Lots of 'em."_

The group had halted. Irohov turned to me, a horrified expression on his face.

"Khornate? Emperor protect us all."

I grinned.

"Okay, so... combat?"

"_Damn straight."_

"Tkhiss, you're the closest thing we have to a strong computer. Give us a combat analysis."

He looked stunned.

[Erm... Right. Calculating.]

"Excellent."

I turned to Irohov, noticing the obvious fear in his eyes. I slapped him on the shoulder, my armoured fist knocking him off balance.

"Cheer up, Triarch. You have the powers of Tzeentch at your side. I won't let any of you die."

He grinned wryly.

"Funny, that's the kind of thing I normally say to the green recruits. Still, you seem to have a good idea of what's going on, so I'll defer command to you. Rojo, Azul, do whatever he tells you to."

Rojo raised a hand.

"I have question. Why can we not simply be running, _da_? We could get to the _Ragtime_ very quickly, and avoid all combat entirely."

"_Unfortunately not. The Chaos Marines have begun their launch sequence. We don't have enough time to find a running vehicle."_

Rojo's arms dropped to his sides, the pilot lights on his flamers flicking on with a quiet hiss.

"Ah. Never mind, then."

I turned back to Tkhiss, who seemed to be staring off into space.

"Well?"

[I finished my calculations before you had even finished your question. I was waiting for you.]

"_Just spit it out, okay?"_

[Fine, then... We stand very little chance of winning against a superior force, but our best battlefield option is something like this; Rojo and Mordakka will act as suppressive fire support. Triarch Irohov and Azul will take care of close range as they're the most mobile. Vivat, Root and I will be support units. I cannot fight, while I presume you and Root will be able to offer considerable magical aid?]

I nodded.

"Sounds reasonable. How're you going to act as support?"

[I believe I can increase the efficiency of the fuel used by the Katyushan flamers by up to 200%. If you'd permit me, Rojo...]

With a light hop, he'd jumped onto Rojo's armoured back, wrench two fuel cables from the large promethium tanks and plugging them into several ports on his own tube-encrusted body. Rojo didn't seem bothered by the weight, but he was surprised.

_Well, obviously._

"What are you doing? You broke my fla- oh. I see."

The pilot lights of his flamers had gone from quiet blue flame to a blinding jet of almost white flame.

"Yes... I could get used to this."

I rubbed my palms together.

"Now, the good stuff. Root, you run them down on magical support, I'll cast."

"_Sure. Let's start with the Veil of Fortune. It'll deflect incoming fire, as well as nullify any explosives which come within range. Be aware, however, that a projectile can only be deflected once, so try to avoid staning too close to each other."_

I raised my hands, muttering a few words of Power under my breath. For a few seconds, everyone in the group glowed with blue light.

"_Lovecraft's Rubric. It'll drain the will to live of anyone who gets near you."_

I spoke another set of words, and everyone was encased in lines of horrific, twisted runic writing, which hurt the mind to read. It, too, faded.

"_Feet of Rincewind. You'll be invincible when running from something. It's difficult to explain, but you'll figure it out."_

"Stercus, Stercus, Stercus. Moritus sum." As the words left my mouth, there was the sound of a faint, ethereal voice screaming...

"_Oh, SHI-"_

"_That's the best I can give you without tainting you. If you die, I might be able to bring you back to life, but I'm not making any guarantees. So, don't die. Got that?"_

I felt the need to break in.

"One last one! The March of Williams!"

"_Oh, right. Okay. This'll inspire you. It generates 'background music'. It'll keep your spirits up. Pay attention to the musical phrases associated with your enemies; they'll help you know if you're in danger."_

I made a single, sweeping motion with my arms, humming a tune under my breath. Then the song started. I'm not going into huge detail, but suffice it to say that it was... _epic._

_Sebell and I had a powerful organ tune, as per standard. Irohov's theme was a low horn, while Azul's seemed to be a sinister violin melody. Rojo had a passionate, all-male choir, while Mordakka's was a thumping drum beat. Lastly, Tkhiss completed the set with a weird, but surprisingly catchy, electronic rhythm._

At the sound of the music, everyone perked up. I activated the Gauntlet, and felt warp energy coursing through Root. Irohov and Azul clicked on their flamers, while Mordakka powered up the Raildakkas. Shootnik was fiddling with something in the Ork's pack. There was an electronic buzz, and they were surrounded by a faint greenish haze.

"I neva go inta battle wifout me forcefield."

"Not a problem. Any extra firepower would be appreciated."

Shootnik jumped into the cradle of the Flakadakka, the two barrels swivelling to point at the sky.

"Root, how much time?"

"_Give or take two minutes?"_

"Okay. Cast whatever you like."

"_I'm gonna go with the some of the Seven Sins. I'll only do Wrath, Greed and Lust, to keep you safe. I may change forms somewhat, so be on watch."_

"Go ahead. If you see anything important, show me. Be ready to channel power to me in case of emergencies.

"_Sure. Armour of Greed!"_

His gaseous form contracted slightly, hardening into a solid, black crust of some kind, striated with the occasional reddish stripe.

"_Lances of Lust!"_

His fingers thinned and extended, growing into long spikes. They shone with reddish light.

"_Eye of Wrath!"_

With a crack, the 'skin' on the back of his hand split open, revealing a glowing, snakelike eye.

_If Sebell's allowed to go on and on about technology and character descriptions, then I'm allowed to go on about magic. The armour of Greed turns the outer layer of your skin into a regenerative carbon lattice, making it well-nigh indestructible. The Lances of Lust effectively give you armour-piercing fingers, which can extend to great lengths. Finally, the Eye of Wrath allows you to track enemies and absorb visual information incredibly fast._

I looked up, seeing the a cluster of black dots almost out of sight range in the clouds.

"Is that them?"

"_Yep."_

At that, the group spread out. Rojo and Mordakka took cover in the rubble, while Azul and Irohov hid themselves inside what was left of an Imperial barrack. I was left out in the open, Gauntlet at the ready.

"_A crazy old warrior once said, 'This is where we hold them. This is where we fight. This is where they die.' Let's kick some ass."_

With a roar of retrorockets, two Thunderhawk gunships settled to the ground a ways off, their turrets swivelling towards me. At the same time, several large drop-pods landed with an earthshaking thunk in perfect formation around them. The musical motifs of our group were drowned out by a sinister electric guitar riff.

"NOBISCUM TZEENTCH!"


	6. Chop, Smash, Shoot, Orbital Bombardment?

The Blood Pact troopers streamed out of the Thunderhawks, brining their lasguns to bear on Root and I. I slowed to a halt, wincing as they, along with the heavy bolters on their dropships, opened fire. Streams of lasgun bolts and bolter shells whizzed past me, the effects of the Veil of Fortune making their courses literally bend around where I stood. There was no sign of the Marines, which was surprising; judging by the insignia on their drop pods, they were World Eaters, but they weren't charging into the fray just yet.

_They probably wanted to make sure their landing zone was secure; After the fireworks form the Waaaghkannon, even a Khornate berserker would be cautious._

"Root, give me a mental link to the tohers. You're our communications relay."

"_Done."_

"Everyone, I'm going to keep these guys pinned down while Mordakka and Rojo take out those Thunderhawks."

There was a chorus of mental affirmatives.

"Now, Root... guess what I'm going to do..."

"_Oh, no... you are, aren't you? That's just _sick_. And not in a good way."_

I grinned manically, raising my hand.

"EVAN'S SPIKED TENTACLES OF FORCED INTRUSION!"

Having said that, I closed my eyes as tight as I could, and turned away. There was a low humming, and the air was filled with a cloying scent. Then the screaming started. There were a series of unpleasant gurgling cries, and I heard what I hoped was several of the Blood Pact members throwing up. I heard Azul's voice in my ear.

"Nice... now, what's the plan?"

_I think that one sentence says more about her character than anything else that happened on Namaskar. You can guess what the Tentacles do, right? ... Yeah. It's not pleasant, but it is... effective._

The noises were diminishing, and most of the lasgun fire had stopped. Hesitantly, I glanced at what remained of the Blood Pact cohort. Most of them were still standing, but some... Anyways, At that I gave my mental cue to Rojo and Mordakka. The Khornate firing line seemd to be building, and more and more troopers were brining their weapons to bear. I could see two more Thunderhawks coming in for a landing a ways off. With a roar, Mordakka burst from his hiding spot, Raildakkas akimbo. Then he opened fire, screaming over the noise of the cannonry.

"OOO-WAAAAGHH! OOO-WAAAAGH! HIDE, YEZ COWARDS! I'ZE BULLETPROOF!"

With a flash of concentrated fire, an entire squad was torn to pieces. When they tried to return fire, something strange happened to the lasbolts; instead of deflecting away from the Veil like they would normally, they actually began to bounce back, only adding to the firepower Mordakka was putting out.

_Obviously his forcefield interfered in some way with the Veil._

"DEY TOLD ME I WUZ GONNA FIGHT 'UMIES, NOT RUNTY LITTLE SQUIGS! WOT SICK 'UMIE SENDS GROTS TA FIGHT AN ORK?"

Shootnik opened up, the Flakadakk stitching bursts of black shrapnel across the nose of the nearest Thunderhawk. With a crack of shattered electronics, the cockpit blew outwards, effectively putting the dropship out of commission. Meanwhile, Rojo was moving towards the other dropship.

_He was certainly moving. As in, he had his arms stretched out behind him, the flamers at full balst, and the force of the recoil was pushing him forward faster than he could ever hope to run. Somehow, he'd accidentally managed to disable his helmet speaker, so all we could hear was a loud muffled yell._

"Mphmmmf! Mh Mh Mh MHUHHH!"

There was a roar as every single rocket on his back ignited at the same time, streaming towards the Thunderhawk. Tkhiss gave an audible yelp and ducked, the projectiles just missing the top of his head. At the same time as the firing, Rojo brought his arms forwards, the burst from the supercharged flamers bringing him to a stop in the middle of an enemy formation. He was surrounded on all sides by enemy troopers, moving to close combat with the usual abandon of the Blood Pact. For a heartbeat, Rojo's musical motif was drowned out by the Chaotic guitar. Then it, in turn, was drowned by a sudden, wailing melody on a violin as Azul made a spectacular entrance, landing on a pillar of fire from her flamer.

"FOR THE IMPERIUM! URRAH!"

_I'd just like to point out that you were standing there, watching all this, while several dozen people were firing heavy weapons at you. I'm just saying._

Anyhoo, the two siblings stood back to back, and got ready for some serious lcose combat. Rojo lifted his massive armoured fists, obviously ready to punch anything that stood in his way. As for Azul, well, there was a flash of metal, and an infantryman flew into the air, twitching convulsively before landing with his neck bent at an unpleasant angle. There was a crackle of static, and Tkhiss' worried voice rang in my ears.

[Ah. I see Corporal Osavin has, in fact modified her _ulu_. Erm... with some sort of electrified stun baton. Clever. I made this call to remind you that you're responsible for this fight, too.]

The connection cut out as the Blood Pact advanced on the Katyushan sibling, enveloping them in a mass of whirling blades and gouts of fire.

"Oh.. hey, yeah!"

I raised the Gauntlet, pointing it at the nearest cluster of Khornate troopers, and squinted around the lines of las fire.

_Ting ting ting TONG_

The squad disappeared in a cloud of inky black nonexistence.

"_Okay, my turn."_

With a crunch, four thin strips of warp matter tore themselves off of his upper arm, shaping themselves into tentacles with beaked mouths at the end. The mouths opened, and, with a high-pitched screech, sent four pencil-thin beams of energy playing over another nearby squad.

_Which promptly exploded. I could just as easily have, say, turned them into flowers or mice, but explosions are so much more dramatic._

"Nice... the old quadruple hellfire, eh? M'kay then. Forward!"

I jogged towards the farther group of Thunderhawks, occasionally stopping to blast away nearby groups of infantry. Rojo, Azul and Mordakka maintained the line, and I was frankly impressed to see that Mordakka had managed to keep up his tirade of insults and threats.

"YER ALL SO PUNY! IT'S FUNNY, YEAH? I'ZE GONNA KILL YOU, 'AN KILL YOU, 'AN KILL YOU!! CRY SOME MORE, 'UMIES! DAKKA DAKKA DAKKA!"

He stopped suddenly as the doors to the drop pods burst open and, with a bellow of rage, the World Eaters charged.

_Now, I know you're all eagerly awaiting some kickass fight scenes, but in the interest of clarity, we're switching things up here._

That's right... the next fights were somewhat hectic, so only Root and the Eye of Wrath had any clear idea of what was going on.

_I'll take over primary narration,_ which means I'll switch to this temporarily.

And I'll be commenting, _so I'm switching to this._

All right, for clarity's sake, I'm Root...

_And I'm Sebell. Clear?_

So... The World Eaters had charged, trampling the Blood Pact troopers in their rush to get at us. I saw one of them plant a standard on a pile of rubble; a flaming skull on a background of interlocking drills.

_So they weren't all World Bearers... or it was a personal standard. The armour was certainly the right colour._

Sebell had a plan of some kind, and I knew as soon as I heard it that it was, in his own right, brilliant. (Oh, and for the next bits, quotations _like this_ are still me.)

I heard him laugh.

"Wow... Everyone, run away. Now. No questions."

They did so. I mean, it was only the sheer numbers of Blood Pact guys there that was preventing the Marines from reaching them. As they ran I saw the Feet of Rincewind taking effect, and they blurred. It really does work well. Fear is an excellent motivator. Oh, yeah. So, we were surrounded by many, many enemies. Sebell was keeping them away well enough ,and I was helping with the occasional burst of high-precision warpfire.

"_Let's go."_

"Okay. Do it."

I shifted my control out of the Gauntlet, freeing most of the runes that bound Aggravah in his containment cell. His energy flowed into the power systems of the weapon, and the entire suit of armour shook as it began to reconfigure itself under the strain of the tremendous force of the energies flowing through it.

_I started to smell blood, there was a roaring in my ears, and my armour changed colour. I was preoccupied tat he time._

The outer shell of the armour shifted from a neutral grey and orange-

_My colour scheme._

-To the original red and maroon. The runes on the Gauntlet flared red and, creepily, began to drip blood. The haze on the device turned from a subtle blue glow to a flaring cloud of reddish energies, and the entire thing started to make a roaring sound as it moved. Then the suit spoke on its own, Aggravah's voice forcing its way through the helmet speakers.

_**BLOOD. FOR. THE. BLOOD. GOD.**_

The Gauntlet exploded, knocking Sebell out, and sending a wave of pure, distilled anger into the ranks of the Marines. I actually watched his arm get torn apart, bursting into a shower of blood and gore, before reforming itself with a sickening pop. The effects were even more dramatic when they hit the Khorne-worshippers. The Blood Pact troopers simply _popped_, showering those near them with gore. When they were hit by the remains of their unfortunate friends, they too ceased to exist, and messily. The effect of the magical build-up spread across the closely packed men, killing most of them in a shower of internal organs and bone fragments. Most of the Marines were taken with it, their armour tearing outwards with a screech before their soft flesh was fla-

_Are you enjoying this?_

-So they died. A few Marines managed to survive through, I assumed, having daemonic weapons and armour of their own which could resist the waves of force. There were about a dozen of them left.

"_Okay guys, I think we can handle 'em. Get back here!"_

As I spoke, I forced Aggravah back into containment, giving Sebell the magical equivalent of a splash with ice water to wake him up.

"Did it work?"

"_See for yourself."_

"Well, then. Messy, but effective."

The rest of the group came charging in, Weapons at the ready. Irohov was in the lead.

"_Triarch! Good to see you? Where were you?"_

He grinned.

"Waiting for you to get all the small fry out of the way. Let's move."

The Marines had scattered, seeking cover behind whatever they could find. They were apparently going to try to split us up, and take us down in small groups.

_Given that they were all trying for personal glory, a one-on-one fight were what they thought was best. They were mistaken._

Guns blazing, Mordakka managed to kill one of them in cover. His companion was about to suffer the same fate, when the Raildakkas chugged to a halt. Mordakka holstered them, pulling two bulky pistols from his belt.

"Da battries'r dead. Dey's gunna need time ta recharge. I guess it's Shotdakka time, huh?"

He ran to meet the charging marine.

"Never bring guns to an axe fight, foolish Ork!"

He raised a huge chainaxe, and was about to bring it straight into the Ork's face when there was a...

_A 'chugga-chugga-chugga'. That's the best fit, I think._

... right, and he was lifted off his feet by the combined blasts of four autoshotguns strapped together. Mordakka was using them as pistols, for Tzeentch's sake! They couldn't penetrate the Marine's thick daemonic armour, but they could knock him around pretty damn well.

"You think your pathetic weapons can penetrate _my_ amour? FOOL! You die NOW!"

Mordakka threw back his head and laughed. Then he shrugged his shoulders and, with a whir of machinery, two small davits assembled a mechanical contraption around his head.

_It looked like some kind of helmet... with guns attached._

"Don't call me shootas pafetic, ya git! Facedakkas! Go!"

The Marine's charge was stopped suddenly by a burst of blue light. He melted.

"You can make Tau fyewshin guns real tiny too, idjit!"

_Meanwhile, there were other fights going on..._

Sorry. All of this is happening at roughly the same time, but since you can probably only perceive chronal flow in a linear way, I'll have to describe what happened with a play-by-play.

_So... next? Rojo and Tkhiss?_

No, let's do Azul.

Three berzerkers charged Azul, their chainaxes roaring almost as loud as they were. The leader had the characteristic purplish haze that marked him as possessing a daemonic artefact. It was some sort of phylactery-

_Really, really big manly necklace._

-Covered in spikes and engraved with a mark of Khorne. Azul ducked under the first trio of blows, bouncing up in a rocket-assisted jump to land _on top of_ the lead Marine. She looked down at him, grinning sadistically.

"I _want _that."

Before he could react, she jumped into the air again, spinning a full 360 degrees and brining a boot down into the back of his head. His neck snapped forwards, cracked by the powerful blow.

_You really want to be afraid of someone who can break a Space Marine's neck. Really afraid. I mean, the weight tolerances on their bones are obscene..._

In another fluid movement, she reached down and plucked the phylactery from his neck, before jetting off his collapsing corpse. She landed lightly, raising her knives.

_All of this took place in a split second. It's a testament to Root's daemonhood that he saw it at all._

The other Marines didn't have time to react. She simply _appeared_ in between them, the heavy phylactery bouncing on her chest.

_Oh yes... her 'chest'. Sorry._

Ugh. And I'm the immature one? Seriously? So, you know how in vids when there's a swordfight you can hear the baldes moving? They sort of hiss through the air? Well, I thought that couldn't happen in real life, but Azul managed it. There was a whizzing, whirring noise, and the two Marines collapsed, blood spraying from their severed necks. Sheathing her blades, she cradled the phylactery like a baby.

"You belong to _me _now."

We'll get back to Azul. Now, Irohov. He'd stayed out of the fighting, and was fresher and better-prepared than the rest of us. At the same time, though, he didn't have Azul's rocket boots, Rojo's armour, or any real heavy weapons; just his flamer pistols and the Boost Hammer.

_And to top it all off, he wasn't even wearing a hat! How these ice-worlders can be at all comfortable is beyond me..._

He was being charged by two Berzerkers. One was your classic Khornate; skull-encrusted armour, ridiculously oversized chainaxe, horned helmet. The other one...

_He looked like a Space Wolf who doesn't shave._

Very snarky! I like it. So, yeah; his armour was covered in animal skulls and pelts, and he didn't wear a helmet. You couldn't really see his face, 'cause it was buried under a massive, matted beard. That thing almost looked _alive._

_Fight!_

I was getting to that! The helmeted Marine came first, sending a low, sweeping blow towards Irohov's midsection. He jumped vertically, firing his flamers downwards as he did so. The recoil from the blast pushed him upwards just far enough that he could kick off the edge of the swinging axe. Letting his momentum carry him forwards, he flipped one flamer up into the air, and then reached under his cloak, pulling out a thin, oblong canister. With one smooth motion, he lodged the canister in the edge of the Marine's neck armour, caught his gun, and with another burst of flame, propelled himself over the stunned berzerker's head, landing heavily behind him.

_Knowing all this, I'm fairly sure all the Katyushans are Eldar in disguise. I mean, really? That kind of agility, combined with a highly fluid CQC style based on redirecting the recoil of flame weapons? I'm surprised they aren't better known._

The berserker skidded to a halt, swinging his head around and fumbling at his neck with his free hand. There was a click, a hiss, a burst of heated air, and he was stumbling wildly, clawing at the vibrant blue-black flames which were melting through most of his face. Irohov got to his feet, dusting himself off.

"Black Promethium satchel charge! The pinnacle of Katyushan chemistry, heretic!"

_Bad. Ass._

The second marine, the hairy one, was charging him, his elephantine beard trailing behind him. Nonchalantly, Irohov pulled out his flask, taking a deep swig, but not swallowing. The Marine was infuriated.

"I'm going to show you pain you never knew existed! You're going to see a whole new spectrum of pain! LIKE! A! RAINBOW!"

Irohov dropped and rolled, ducking under a blow which would have torn his head off. He popped directly in front of the Marine, who was still off-balance from his wild swing. One he raised his arm to his face, flamer pistol in hand. Then he _spat_ his mouthful of wine at the Marine. It hit the pistol's pilot light, and burst into a cloud of pale fire. Which then proceeded to light the marine's entire head on fire.

"LAAAAAAAARGGGGH!"

Irohov rolled back to his original stance, sheathing the pistol as he did, and removing the Burst Hammer. He swung it, pulling the trigger as he did. There was a whoosh, and the highly-accelerated chunk of metal crunched onto the Marine's hairy skull. He dropped like a rock, still burning brightly. Irohov leaned down, swallowing the last bit of ice wine.

"Katyushan ice wine is known as 'Blue Promethium' for a reason. But I think you can see that, hm?"

_I'll say again. Bad. Ass._

Ahhh... good times. Now, the penultimate fight. Us!

_May I narrate?_

Why not. Should we switch? We all saw Rojo and Tkhiss fight, so I guess _that I'm like this again?_

_If you want. _It's a pain, I know...

_So, to clarify. Root._

Sebell. Clear again? So, okay. Four Marines had charged me, apparently recognizing a Sorcerer. Now, I'm frankly terrible at close combat, so I was trying to keep them off. I raised Root, and speared the nearest one through the chest with the Lances of Lust.

_Imagine giving someone the finger, except your finger is a twelve-meter long armour-piercing spike made out of a reinforced carbon lattice._

The Gauntlet had reverted to its more stable configuration, so I took out a second Marine with a small wave of my hand. Unfortunately, I was unable to kill the other Marine, because at that moment one of them tried to cut me in half. Root blocked instinctively, the chainaxe throwing off chips of carbonized warp matter. I managed to push him off, but he counterattacked quickly, his axe catching me in the side. The wards in the armour took most of the force out of the blow, but it still tore through the relatively weak waist armour, leaving me with a nasty gash in my side.

"_Damn. That was cursed. Hold on. I'm going to burn it off._

There was a surge of fire, a loud bang, and my side exploded in even more pain, which just as quickly faded. The marine was dancing back and forth, apparently unwilling to kill a wounded man.

"There is no honour in killing those who cannot fight back! Come! My blade against your pathetic sorcery, worm!" he screamed.

"With pleasure."

I grinned evilly.

"Root, full power to the Rubric."

With a drawn-out, wailing scream, the bands of infernal letters faded into view, shining with a colour which was... indescribable. The marine took one look at the runes, and began to tremble.

_Brief note of explanation, here. Lovecraft the Insane was an obscenely powerful (and absolutely bat-eff insane) Tzeentchian sorcerer. His greatest accomplishment was the nine Rubrics of Lovecraft, each devastatingly powerful. We know what the first three do; number one is these freaky-deaky runes that eat away at the psyche of whoever looks at them, number two subtly alters the laws of space-time in an area, meaning that to just spend any time in the area the spell is cast is to go insane, and number three converts positive emotions into Warp energy. No one's entirely sure what four through nine do; Lovecraft claimed he was going to ascend to godhood by casting all nine, but all that really happened was all matter within a nine light-year radius of his fortress was instantly obliterated. Needless to say, the surviving copies of his work were placed under heavy guard on the Planet of the Sorcerors._

He staggered back and forth, clutching at his face and moaning.

"N...no. No! It... it can't... Why is-! Why is it! I don't wanna I don't wanna I don't-"

He pulled out a bolt pistol and shot himself through the head. Before the spell could fade out completely, I caught a brief glimpse of a triangle with _three right angles_. Brrr...

_Meh. I've seen worse._

Now is not the time! So. I'd been caught up with the death of the marine, and realised too late that there was still one charging towards me. He knocked Root out of the way, grabbing me by the throat and lifting me off the ground. I could barely breathe, even with the thick plating of my armour protecting me.

"Any last words, meatbag?"

Choking desperately, I triggered the helmet faceplate release with my chin, I blinked, mentally chanting the words of a spell. I blinked, and suddenly my left eye blazed with brilliant red light.

"D-die."

He stiffened, dropping me unceremoniously. Without a sound, he fell backwards, landing with a thump. It stood up, gasping.

"_The Red Lamp, eh? Unorthodox, but it works."_

_Another spell explanation here. The Red Lamp of Death is a spell cast from the eyes. It permanently rewires the neural patterns of anyone who sees it, forcing them to obey one order. Unfortunately, after the order has been carried out, they are left as babbling simpletons. If you know it well enough, you can simply force someone's heart to stop beating, like Sebell did._

I was going to reply, but was distracted by the sight of Rojo flying through the air, and landing heavily on his back, with Tkhiss underneath him.

Rojo had been having trouble. I've reviewed what Root saw, and it just proved my suspicions. For all his experience, Rojo's armour just couldn't compete with the Marines. He had the advantage of thick plate, but it was only through mobility that the rest of us managed to get through unscathed.

_Mobility, firepower, Chaos powers, and did I mention firepower?_

So, anyways, he had managed to keep the Marines away with the power of his enhanced flamers. None of his opponents were helmetless, meaning that he couldn't aim for the face and take them out quickly. As soon as they got past his defences and into close combat, it was over for him. He just wasn't fast enough.

_He was fine against ordinary people, but against Marines... no way._

He groaned dully through the armour, blood seeping through the large gashes in his arms and legs. The fuel lines hadn't been ruptured, so, fortunately, he didn't seem to be in any risk of combusting. There was a groan of metal, and his unconscious body shifted to the side. Tkhiss pulled himself to his feet unsteadily, clutching the drill-and-skull banner that one of the Marines had planted earlier. He seemed disoriented.

[With...with a lack of p-p-psychological s-s-ymbology you are dddemoralised!]

The Marine rushed towards him, axe going for his unprotected midsection.

"Pathetic xeno! Your blood is _mine_!"

There was the roar of a chainaxe, an unpleasant tearing sound, and the air around the alien and the Marine exploded into grey smoke. When it cleared, the marine had stepped back, apparently unharmed, and Tkhiss was clutching as his side, which was spraying a long, thin plume of smoke.

[You... you cut me! I-I-I've lost containment! Bu-]

"Pathetic! You're not even worth killing if you cannot bleed! Well then... Who is next!?"

The Marine turned to all of us, axe raised, skull jangling off his armour. He took a step forward, Azul apparently his first target.

"You... there is much blood about you!"

_To be fair, she was literally drenched in the stuff._

"You have defeated my comrades! Now! Fight me!"

He leapt forwards, axe whining, but stumbled as the air filled with an inhuman screech. It came from the vox channels; emotionless, mechanical bursts of wide-spectrum noise that broke one's concentration in the worst way possible.

[I... I do not think so.]

Tkhiss took a step forwards. He had wrapped himself in the banner, jamming it into the tear in his side to stop the wound. The grey smoke inside his fishbowl-like head was alive with electrical discharges, and the cape moved as if in a breeze, driven by the static running through it.

"Oh? It would seem you _do_ have fighting spirit, if nothing else! Come, taste death!"

[I don't want to die.]

"COWARD!"

The Marine made another leap, his chainaxe slicing downwards, too close for Tkhiss to block.

Crack.

The axe snapped off at the handle, stopped mid-swing by a vertical kick from Tkhiss. His left leg was bent at an unnatural angle, the hoof-like foot clamped over the haft of the axe.

[What you humans seem to fail to realise is that unwillingness to die does not necessarily mean cowardice.]

Tkhiss hopped, brining his left leg down and right leg up in a kick that connected with the bottom of the Marine's chin, sending him flying backwards.

[Unwillingness to die means sensibility. It means logic. Speaking of logic, did you know that, by virtue of being a pressurized gas cloud, I can exert pressures of over ten thousand tons per square centimetre in my leg joints? It's true.]

He somersaulted forwards, swinging both legs downwards in a cracking blow ; the marine rolled frantically, and Tkhiss clipped his shoulder, driving him into the ground again.

[You humans are idiots, did you know that? You could do so much better if you learned to be accepting, and yet you rely on blind fate. Learn to see both sides of an argument. The logical fallacies your entire race presents are... pathetic, frankly.]

His foot swept upwards, flinging the marine bodily into the air. Tkhiss pirouetted gracefully, the red banner trailing out behinds him, kicking the Marine across the chest with each spin. As he spun, he continued to speak, calmly, but growing louder and louder.

[You assume that, just because we are different from you, we are evil and wrong. It is incredible how you can underestimate and revile those who are not you!]

The marine landed heavily, pulling himself to his feet with a groan.

"You call that fighting? Pathetic."

[You're not listening! Who in the hell do you think I am? A simpleton? I am INTELLIGENCE INCARNATE! I am the Ambassador of Nntock! The only one who dared to leave my world! I am the Canned Ambassador, the one who knows all. When the Tau hear my name, they respect me because they know what I am capable of! But you! You ignorant, close minded... PHILISTINE! You are UNWORTHY of existence! For grand unintelligence and ignorance of your place in the galaxy, I sentence you to DEATH! AND WITH YOUR FINAL BREATH, YOU WILL KNOW THAT MINE IS THE CARRIER WAVE THAT PIERCES THE RADIATION BELTS OF HEAVEN!!]

He delivered an incredibly powerful kick, cracking the Marine's breastplate and leaving him sprawling on the ground. The horrible vox noise started again, his time accompanied by a rising tone. A wavering blue dot of laser light appeared on the center of the marine's helmet. He struggled weakly, attempting to rise.

[ORBITAL... RAILGUN... FIRE!!!]

There was a pulse of blue light, a deafening whooshing noise, a crunch, and silence. When the smoke cleared, the Marine was gone, replaced by a deep, steaming crater. Tkhiss sighed, the electrical sparks in his head dying down.

[And yet... your race had such potential.]

He turned past us, striding towards the vehicle dock at a fair clip.

[Well? What are you waiting for? They will be launching their second wave shortly, and the _Ragtime_ is far, far away. Recover Rojo, then move!]

Root raised his hand.

"_There's an easy solution for Rojo. Revive!"_

With a burst of azure light, Rojo was lifted to his feet, stumbling unsteadily but quickly regaining his footing.

"I do not know what you did, daemon, but many thanks. You are great doctor.

"_I told you I wouldn't let anyone die. It's too troublesome."_

[Sentimetality aside, can we please move!? Our lives are at stake!]

Irohov hesitantly spoke first.

"When you said-"

[Yes, I do have control over the Tau orbital defence network. However, the A.I.N.'s static jamming field is preventing me from maintaining a continuous and stable signal. I was able to exploit a small gap in the radiation belts. Unfortunately, the Chaotic fleet have detected that particular satellite and destroyed it. As soon as we leave that atmosphere, I should be able to regain complete control.]

"_Sebell, there's something that we discussed..."_

"Oh, right."

I waved the group onwards, walking towards a likely-looking mound of rubble.

"You go on ahead. I need to take care of something."

As they entered the hangar, I kneeled down in front of the mound, pulling a small scroll from a concealed pocket in my armour. I unfolded it, scratching a few more runes into the magical array.

"Okay... so as soon as we've gone, it goes?"

"_Yep.. looks good. They shouldn't detect it 'til it's already reached critical mass."_

I pierced the scroll with a single pin, slipping it under a rock. Then I straightened up, jogging towards the hangar.

"Excellent."


	7. The Obligatory Car Chase

Entering the hangar, it became rapidly apparent that something was wrong.

_The blood was a good indicator. It was sort of... everywhere._

Blood was dripping from the surrounding machines, and pooled on the floor. At the center of spatter was Azul, collapsed in a huddle on the ground. In a rough circle around her were the rest of the group, also covered in blood, but apparently unharmed.

"What in the Warp happened here?"

Irohov shook himself, drops of gore falling off of his beard.

"I... Well, I can't honestly say. One moment she was ragging Rojo about his close-combat skills, the next she collapses and there's blood everywhere."

I got closer, bending over her limp form. The phylactery around her neck was still oozing blood, but she seemed unharmed.

"D'you think..?"

"_Daemonic possession? Possible. If I could read her mind, I would, but that's not an option."_

Rojo stepped forwards, concern breaking through his normal veil of complacency.

"You mean to say... my sister is an accursed daemonhost? No!"

He made a convulsive move towards her, but I waved him off.

"Careful. If that is a Khornate daemon in there, you don't want to make sudden moves."

[Is she in danger of impeding our progress? If so, I vote we leave her and continue. A regrettable loss, I'm sure, but the needs of the group outweigh her needs.]

"_You're a dick, Tkhiss."_

[I am unaware of what that means, but I can guess. You of all people should be able to appreciate my logic.]

"_Wow. Killing that Marine really helped you grow a pair, didn't it?"_

I grabbed Root, applying a minor shock spell as I did so.

"Root..."

"_Okay... sorry, sorry. Clearly now is not the time for deadpan snarking. I get it."_

[I am thankful clearer heads have prevailed. So, sho-]

Azul sat up abruptly. She glanced around, obviously taking stock of the blood-stains.

"Did he do that? Damn."

She grabbed the phylactery, brining it close to her face and whispering quietly. With a sudden flare of Warp energy, the blood vanished. She got to her feet, brushing some of the ingrained gore from her previous battles off of her uniform.

"I'm fine, if you're wondering. Nnoitra won't be bothering us anymore. That pathetic daemon got it into his head to take over my body. I taught him a lesson."

Rojo took a hesitant step towards her.

"She is not a daemon?"

Root shrugged eloquently, a gesture which made my left shoulder click uncomfortably.

"_If she were Khornate, she'd be screaming 'Blood for the Blood God' or trying to eat your heart. Given that she's not, and that the level of energy emitting from that artefact is only about Bloodletter-calibre, I'd say she's fine."_

Rojo crushed his sister in a bear hug.

"You may be heretic now, but at least you are still you."

Irohov beamed, and then began to move deeper into the hangar. Mordakka had already gone into the gloom, apparently bored by our conversation. The cavernous space was barely illuminated by several high, thin windows and shell holes in the ceiling, and the dusty hulks of war machines were visible in the dim light. With a snap and a rising hum, several glowstrips sprang to life on the walls, revealing the panoply of machinery. After a few minutes of silence Irohov suddenly appeared between two rows of storage canisters, clutching a clipboard and covered in dust.

"I found the supply manifests. Let's see what we've got before the solar batteries short themselves out."

He began to walk down the silent aisles of machinery, pointing things out as he passed.

"Cadian stuff here... standard Imperial arsenal. Ooh, they've got a Malcador! I've never seen a functional one before... All right. Katyushan stuff. Let's see here."

I gazed in awe upon the ranks upon ranks of machinery, noting the prevalence of rocket weaponry. There were machines of near Titan-size visible in the back of the immense hangar, and I saw to my delight that several ramps led downwards to underground chambers filled with more technological delights. I could go on and on and on about the delights I saw there-

_I thought we'd gotten over the whole rambling on bit. Seeing as how not all of us are Tech-adepts, let's get back to the story._

Root waved, trying to get Irohov's attention.

"_Is there any reason why we'll be taking Katyushan machinery?"_

Irohov set down the clipboard on a nearby crate, taking a deep breath as he did.

"Fine then. Katyushan design philosophy 101. You could spend years studying this, but suffice it to say Katyushan technology is designed with an altered learning curve. In other words, it's very, very easy to use our machines without training, but considerably more difficult to master them. Anyone can drive a _Gagarin_ tank, because the controls are so intuitive, but you need lots of experience to get really, really good at it. That doesn't apply to Cadian stuff. This way, even if one of us is injured or killed, someone else can still operate the vehicle."

"_Forget I asked."_

All right. In order of size... I'll skip the modified standard vehicles, go with the purely Katyushan tech... _Shughovhod _mobile siege platform... That's pretty much equivalent to a Warhound titan, and they're terrible in city terrain, so no. Next..."

He indicated a massive vehicle, covered in missile pods and bearing an odd hammer and sickle insignia.

"_Konech-sveta_ superheavy tank... Good for any kind of firefight, but far too slow. After that... the good old _Gagarin_ Leman Russ variant, also too slow. Ah, but here we go."

He took a sudden turn down an aisle, stopping in front of several tanks, all slightly smaller than a Chimera.

"_Soyuz_ scout vehicle. Perfect."

The _Soyuz_ were bulbous, sturdy-looking things, resting on four oversized wheels which were almost as tall as they were. The front was an exposed bubble cockpit, and most of the vehicle's body was given over to a semi-enclosed cargo bay with a rear hatch. The only armament that I could see was an awkward multi-barrelled device on one rear corner, which seemed to be some sort of missile launcher.

"Fast-moving, manoeuvrable, has fire-ports for added cover; the passenger bay is probably large enough for us... definitely one of these."

We were all startled by a belch of smoke, followed by the roar of a powerful engine. Down near the end of the line, a _Soyuz_ had been activated. Mordakka worked his way out of the rear hatch, giving a wave.

"I found 'dis trukk! It looks reel gud, dunnit? It's da only red fing wot I could find!"

_Racing stripes._

Irohov shrugged.

"Okay then... I guess that's decided. Everybody in. I'll pop the roof hatch for more headroom."

We made our way down to the end of the line, squeezing through the rear hatch of the machine. Mordakka was kneeling to one side of the bare passenger bay, and I stood next to him, ducking my head slightly to avoid banging it on the low top of the compartment. Irohov released the hatch on the cockpit, shoving Shootnik out of the pilot's seat and dropping into it himself.

"One second here."

He thumbed a switch, and, with a hiss of hydraulics, the roof opened, sliding downwards and outwards. With a relieved grunt, Mordakka stood up, his back popping.

"Azul, If you'd take the missile turret..."

She had already strapped herself into the small bucket seat, settling the targeting console in front of her. Above her, the turret whirred, rotating back and forth and pitching slightly. Azul grinned.

"Just like old times..."

The note of the engine rose to a higher pitch. Irohov leaned back down the connecting passage from the pilot's seat.

"Everyone okay back there? I'm gonna start the RAM and get us out of here!"

"_Out of here? How? There's no room! There's not enough space between things! And what the hell is RAM?"_

There was a blast of smoke and noise, and we were all wrenched to the floor of the vehicle as it lifted off the floor of the hangar, slewing forwards wildly. I could barely hear Irohov's voice over the blast of the machinery.

"Rocket Assisted Manoeuvring system! Standard Issue!"

We were off.

With a roar, the Soyuz spun wildly across the hangar, slewing this way and that as Irohov struggled with the controls. We spun crazily, almost flipping completely upside-down until he managed to get us stable.

"Sorry back there! I had the throttle controls backwards."

We screamed collectively and ducked as the vehicle dipped through the gap between the doors, barely missing spattering against the thick walls. Suddenly, we were in open air, and Irohov brought us to a barely controlled landing. The Soyuz shook on its heavy suspension, sliding across the broken tarmac of the base before skidding to a stop. There was a brief silence as everyone composed themselves, and then…

"Waaaaagh! Dat wuz da best! Do it 'gain, Humie! We wuz goin' really, really _fast_!"

Irohov craned his head out of the cockpit.

"There may come a time, Boss. For now, at least let me figure the rest of this out."

I let out a shuddering breath.

"We're still alive. We're still alive. Oh Tzeentch."

_"You people are nuts! Absolutely insane! I mean, I knew Doomrider and he was more sAAAAAAGH!"_

The tank had begun to spin, rotating around its central axis with a rapidly rising whine. Looking over the sides, I saw the wheels spinning faster than the eye could follow, the small rollers that coated them giving the whole thing a weird spiraling look.

_I am never, ever riding Katyushan vehicles. Ever. Again._

Irohov was barely audible over the whine of the motors.

"Omni-directional steering, and…"

We were thrown every which way as the Soyuz rolled forwards in a straight line, still spinning.

"Standard steering…"

We jerked to an abrupt halt, then began to drive in circles.

"Now, let's try all of them at once."

_"NO! Ple-"_

The tank shot forwards again, making a long sweeping turn while sliding horizontally. We jerked to a halt again, and I ended up draped over Rojo, who had somehow managed to turn himself upside-down and entangle himself in the safety webbing. To my surprise, he was chuckling.

"Is just like basic training all over again! Except without whipping! _Urrah_!"

Root twitch convulsively, the Eye of Wrath flicking every which way.

_"I'm feeling massive surges in Warp energy on the surface… oh no!"_

There was a blast of wind, an inhuman, unholy howl, and it began to rain blood. I could taste ozone.

_"They've arrived."_

Azul shuddered convulsively, her hand straying to the phylactery.

"Nnoitra says they're coming for us all. They've brought a Bloodthirster."

I turned to Irohov.

"Get driving! Hurry! Root, show me where they're breaking through."

My vision faded as Root's blossomed in my mind. I saw the battlefield where we'd fought, an area concealed by several fallen buildings. The air was torn by a rent in the fabric of reality, huge streamers of pure warp energy boiling out of it into realspace. With a crunch that echoed through my mind, it grew larger, and, accompanied by a scream of tortured metal, a Defiler crawled forth, a single Khornate marine riding on its back. The tearing increased, and five more defilers poured out, all of them bearing riders. They were surrounded by packs of lesser daemons, they slavering jaws dripping with gore. There was a brief moment of relative silence as the enemy milled about, consolidating their position, and then a roar of fury that surpassed all others. A massive red-skinned hand clutching an immense act pushed through the rift, widening it even more. Freed from its ethereal prison, the Bloodthirster shook itself, flexing its wings with horrible organic efficiency. Bellowing a call to the hunt, it took to the air, carrying its axe with it.

"DRIVE!"

With a screech of tires, the Soyuz careened through the base, fishtailing around piles of debris. Soon, we were on a relatively clear road, and speeding along at a considerable pace. It was time to prepare.

"Mordakka, if you've got any more guns, stuff that's good against hardened targets, be ready. Rojo, do what you can. If you have any rockets left, use 'em. Tkhiss… I dunno. Azul, get that rocket turret ready to fire at anything that moves. We can't let that thing catch us. We can deal with the daemons and the defilers, but I doubt whether we'd be able to take down a Bloodthirster."

_"I can outfight one, but the magical fallout would kill everyone. Precision is hard when you're dealing with something that huge."_  
Mordakka looked intrigued.

"So it's really, really 'ard? An' you sez we c'n use anyfing? Righ' den! Shootnik, bring up da morta! Use da Booma shellz! 'An get me me SIYANTZ!"

The last word was a triumphal roar. With incredible speed, Shootnik got to work, dismantling the frame of the flakadakka. He grabbed Mordakka's pistols, disassembling them and reattaching them to various clips on the pack. He reached into another pocket, pulling out a gun larger than he was, and heaving it into Mordakka's burly arms. That finished, he disappeared into the depths of the pack.  
Everyone examined Mordakka's new gun curiously. It looked like an odd cross between a typewriter and some kind of energy cannon, with a large keyboard surmounting a four-pronged barrel. Rojo spoke, yelling over the rush of the wind.

"_Siyantz_? Do you mean science? If so, what is that device you hold?"

The Ork hefted the device, flicking a switch and activating it with a low whine.

"Dere's no time fer dat! I'll tell you humies later! Ya just gotta 'member dat dere are firty-sevin buttons, an' I only know what two of them duz! Shootnik, where's me Morta, huh? 'Urry up, grot!"

The bag fell open, ripping apart at the seams as a huge, multi-barreled cannon rose upwards, tilting forwards on a sturdy mechanical arm. At its top sat Shootnik, protected from the weapon's barrel by a large blast shield.

"S'ready!" He chirped.

At that moment, a shell whistled overhead, blasting a crater out of the road and throwing up a blinding cloud of smoke and dust. Irohov gunned the motor, activating the rockets and blasting us over the still-steaming crater. The Defilers had gotten within range, and were pounding away wildly while running at full tilt, their shells exploding all around us. I caught a chunk of shrapnel on the side of my head and it bounced off my helmet, leaving my ears ringing. Mordakka stood up, and was nearly brained by a chunk of pavement the size of a person. He stopped it with his new gun; it hung in a cloud of static haze, smoking. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it flying towards the Defilers, crushing one of the smaller daemons which had nearly caught up to us. Azul opened up with the rocket turret, sending a stinging barrage of projectiles into the mass of the enemy. Their ranks tore under the force of the explosions, but more came to replace them. I leaned over the side of the vehicle, sweeping the area with bursts of power from the Gauntlet. Root added his own magic as well, the bright lances of his four mouths punching holes through the oncoming enemy. They were gaining, and I could see the slow, unwieldy shape of the Bloodthirster, pounding its way through the air.

"There's too many! We're going to need more firepower!"

Then I noticed the rising point of light.

t hung in the air for a few seconds, a distinct blob of something metallic, before dropping back below the horizon. Any further investigating was interrupted by Mordakka and Shootnik, who were apparently arguing over the Morta.

"Why ain't yez firin' yet? Yez sed it wuz reddy!"

Shootnik was hanging upside-down from the barrel, smacking an unidentifiable piece of gearing with the butt of one of his pistols.

"If I don' wind up da ro-ta-ree screw regulataz, den da hole autoloadin' mekanizm is gonna tear itself ta bitz! Doz yew want yer gun ta be a lump a gubbinz?"

"Fine den! Jus' make it quick! Dem fingys is almost 'ere!"

He was right. The smaller daemons had nearly reached the back of the vehicle, and Rojo and I were making a frantic effort to keep them away, our blasts of fire and magic doing little to stop the incoming tide. To my surprise, Tkhiss stood up, leveling a hand at the oncoming horde.

[You have some of the most powerful weaponry imaginable, and yet you are having difficulty with this rabble of malformed monstrosities? Allow me to demonstrate what you should be doing.]

"GET DOWN, SMOKY GIT!"

The Morta fired. At first it didn't even sound like recognizable cannon noise; All I could hear was a low thrumming. A thin trickle of smoke drifted from the barrel.. And then... the sound of metal striking metal.

"Zoggit! There ya go!"

The force of the detonation forced us back, knocking Tkhiss into the webbing and forcing Azul out of her seat. The _Soyuz_ swayed wildly as Irohov tried to compensate for the incredible recoil. As my head cleared, I realized what the Morta was doing.  
_  
__Rapid-firing artillery shells. RAPID-FIRING ARTILLERY FRIGGIN' SHELLS._

Shootnik released the trigger, and for a few seconds the air was filled with the whistling of shells and the baying of daemons. Then the noise started. It was a low rumbling, rising up through the scale to become a massive, wide-spectrum burst of sound. The ground shook from the force of it, and among the packs of daemons appeared several huge globes of light, slowly expanding outwards and consuming everything in their path. The noise reached a crescendo, and the globes of light expanded outwards, passing over us with a crunch as they dissipated. We sped on, and all of us gazed back in wonder at the battlefield. There were no craters, or scorch marks, or holes. Every single minor demon had been reduced to powder, and the Defilers, though still running, were looking shaky.

Mordakka harrumphed, sounding smug.

"'An dat, liddle Humies, is a Booma shell."

_"What did you just do!?"_

"Dem is noisy wepins. Dey shakes fings ta pieces, den blows away da rest wif a static charge."

_"But it hit us! How did we survive?"_

He flourished the Siyantz device, thumbing the second key on the keyboard. With a pop, a hemisphere of energy sprang into life, hanging in the air in front of the machine.

"Button numba tew absorbs energy wepins, and…"

He pointed the center of the dome at the nearest Defiler, pulling the trigger as he did. The device made a loud thumping noise, the energy field vanished, and the Defiler dissolved in a cloud of dust.

"… lets ya shoot it wherever ya want. It ain't got much dakka, but it shore is blasty!"

Tkhiss shook his head wearily, untangling himself from the webbing.

[I believe you just managed to break most of the laws of thermodynamics _and_ physics, but I am not entirely sure how. I can hardly complain.]

I cast an eye to the horizon. Five Defilers were left, all of them still going fairly strong. They seemed to have abandoned the bombardment, instead focusing on getting as close as possible. In the air, the Bloodthirster was still drawing closer, unphased by the events below. Then the light came back.

_Dun dun DUUUUUNN!_

It was closer, and with a little help from Root I could see…

_The Assassin. Alive and kicking._

It had been heavily damaged; the left side was scored by deep burn marks, and the left arm had broken into a cloud of tiny fibers, thin lines of energy arcing between them. Its chest cavity had broken open, exposing the maelstrom of bluish energies that was its core. It was in mid-leap, on a direct beeline for the midsection of the Bloodthirster. The Daemon noticed it, swinging around in mid-air and roaring as it brandished its axe. The Assassin dodged the blow, its jump-kick connecting with the loincloth area of the daemon with a crunch that was audible from the _Soyuz_. The Roar became an agonized yelp. Rojo and I winced, and Azul snickered softly.

_That's the major advantage to being incorporeal. No… shall we say…gubbinz._

Its momentum carrying it upwards, the Assassin flipped the Bloodthirster around, landing on its back and, with a casual punch, breaking one of its wings. The great beast fell, and the machine walked slowly along its back, pointing its ruined left arm at the creature's head. For a few seconds, the lines of light travelling along its body shone brilliant gold, and the Bloodthirster's head was knocked from its shoulders. It landed with an earth-shaking crunch, passing out of view as we rounded a tall pile of ruins, the Defilers still in close pursuit.

"Um… It's back, you guys."

We drove on in silence, the only sound the whoosh of the wind and the stomp-stomp-stomp of the Defiler. No one moved. Then I noticed the sound… or lack thereof.

"The music… Where's the music?"

Throughout the battle, the music had remained an ever-present companion, changing to fit the pace of the fighting, soaring and crashing in triumphant harmony. Now, there was silence… except for-

_The bell. We all heard it at the same time; a low, mournful tolling, never stopping or slowing. A funeral bell. _

Azul shivered, unconsciously leaning closer towards her brother.

"I don't like it either, Nnoitra… I don't like it at all."

The Defiler opened up, breaking the stillness. Autocannon shells pinged around us, flickering away from the Veil and flying away into the rubble. With a whoosh, an artillery-calibre shell shot overhead, landing with a bang in a burnt-out house. Azul responded with the rocket turret, her precise salvo blowing away the front leg of the nearest Defiler. It tripped, throwing its rider into the air like a rag doll before crushing him under its metallic bulk. Temporarily immobilized, it was killed by another rocket which took its head off.

"'Eads up, boyz! FIYAH!"

The Morta roared again, this time directed at another Defiler. The booming shockwave broke it into powder, scattering the chunks across the battlefield.

"Tew down, free ta go! WAAAAGH!"

Untangling itself from the webbing, Tkhiss stood up, again striking a dramatic pose.

[Now… let me show you what you should have done!]

He puffed out a roiling cloud of smoke, which a Defiler had the misfortune of running through. Within a few seconds, its outer workings had melted away, and the Berserker on top was a writhing mass of flesh.

_Ouch… Acid warfare does not equal fun. It equals disgusting burns. I'll stick with magic any day, thanks very much._

"Two to go! We can make this!"

Rojo settled into a low stance, one fist pointed at the nearest Defiler.

"Though I dislike prospect of wasting glorious Katyushan technology, my flamers have been corroded by recent creation of fiery infernos. Wrist bolts, away!"  
With a pop of focused explosives, the fist of his armour tore off the arm, streaming on a column of rocket flame. It missed.

_Spectacularly._

Rojo was about to try for the second fist when I grabbed his shoulder.

"No need. I have a plan. Root, you said a while back that Tzeentchian psychic energies react catastrophically with Khornate daemons, right?"

_Damn… that was on what, like page seve-_

SHH! Anyways…

_"Um… Yeah. I did. Are you- no way. It can't possible work."_

I signed a Rune of Invisibility, indicating the Defiler as my target.

"Cloak. Cube of the Snake. Emmerich's Adaptive Camouflage. Shroud of Romulus. Invisibility."

The Defiler disappeared for a few seconds… and then reappeared. Arcs of blue and crimson magical energy twisted across its body, and it writhed, skidding to a halt as the two opposite polarities of Warp magic began to cancel each other out. With a surprisingly anticlimactic popping noise, it ceased to exist.

_"Oh, hey. Critical existence failure. I'll have to remember that one!"_

Irohov leaned back in his seat.

"How're we doing? I can't keep up this pace much longer, or the engine'll overheat!"

I gave him a thumbs-up.

"We're fine! There's just one mo-"

The Defiler struck the _Soyuz_ from the rear, flipping it upwards. The Assassin had ran up behind it, lifting it bodily and tossing it in our direction. For a few brief moments we were airborne, and I saw one of the Defiler's immense claws pass within inches of my face. Then we hit the ground with a horrible crunch, the Chaotic machine's ammunition cooking off from the impact and punching huge holes in its armour.

We came to rest with the _Soyuz_ on its side, gouts of smoke pouring from its shattered engine. I scrambled to my feet, head ringing, and began to run.

_"Oh Tzeentch! It's getting closer! RUN!"___

_Not my finest hour, I must admit._

Miraculously, the rest of the group was relatively unharmed, although Rojo had badly hurt his wrist and Tkhiss had acquired a few more cracks in his dome-like head. No-one bothered to take stock of the situation. We just _ran_, panting, doing whatever we could to escape the unholy machine that chased us. Then I noticed the haze of read light, and heard the distant swearing that marked…

"The Feet of Rincewind! As long as we keep running away from it, we can't be hurt!"

_"How incredibly convenient!"_

Azul pulled alongside me, her cloak streaming in the wind. She was panting.

"Yes… but how long can we keep running, heretic?"

"Oh… yeah. Um."

We could hear the footsteps of the Assassin behind us now, loping easily across the rough terrain. The funeral bells were growing louder and louder. Then I noticed the smell of ozone, and felt a tingling in my sinuses. The Warp intruding on the plain of the real. With a tearing screech almost identical to the one that had produced the Defilers, another warp gate opened up, this time taller than a building. An immense metal foot descended from the crack, landing neatly on top of the Assassin, and battering us with the force of its passing. Shaking itself free from the Immaterium, the Warhound screamed with the force of a dozen Bloodthirsters.

_"TITAN!"_


	8. If In Doubt, Run Away Very Fast

Screeching, the Warhound took a lumbering step forwards, the two immense mega-bolters on its left arm whirring with horrible power. It swung its right arm forwards, a powerfist the size of a Dreadnought buzzing with enough energy to cut a tank in half. We were rooted on the spot, ignoring Root's screams for us to-

_'Run, you pestilent sons of meatsacks' was probably the politest thing I said. I get irritable when I'm afraid. And yes, I am capable of being afraid._

It stumbled. The Assassin wasn't down yet. With an enraged howl, the Warhound stomp its foot, trying to crush the other machine. It didn't work. The Eldar construct slipped away between stomps, making a beeline for a distant hill. The Titan followed it, momentarily ignoring us in favour of a far more interesting target. We ran.

Irohov, panting wildly, pointed at the horizon.

"There! Rayvin's HQ!"

I could see something metallic over a nearby building. As we rounded it, we came to a wide cleared space, evenly set with long strands of barbed wire. In the center of the clearing was a large square fort, enclosed with tall, pointed walls. At each corner was an immense rocket launcher turret, mounted on a conical base. The wall was regularly painted with the rocket-and-halo symbol I'd come to associate with Katyushans. The main gate was hanging off its hinges, dented by the forces the Assassin had directed against it.

_I always wondered why it didn't just jump over the wall._

Warily, we wlaked through the gate. The base was, as expected, deserted. It was scattered with low, conical buildings, all apparently leading to an elaborate underground tunnel network. The ground was criss-crossed with partially buried fuel lines, all of them leading to several concrete disks which I took to be the tops of the fuel tanks.

"Irohov, why the fuel lines? Don't you have buried power lines?"

Irohov stopped for a few seconds, shading his eyes against the bright sun. It was late afternoon, and the sun was still bright in the clear sky.

"All of these buildings are rockets. Katyushan bases are orbital-dropped. With enough time, you blow the tunnels, seal off each building, and launch everything back to your orbital support ship. Now… the command ship is… ah. There."

He pointed at a wide, low, metal dome, in roughly the center of the base.

"That doesn't really look like a ship."

"It's buried. Come on!"

We jogged over to the dome. It was composed of overlapping strips of metal, surrounded by a low rim of concrete. Irohov fiddled with a small hatch in the concrete, and it popped open, revealing a thoroughly-fried control panel.

"_Apoli._ The A.I.N's burned out all the cogitator systems. The manual backup should work, though. Azul, could you pry this panel away?"

She attacked the panel with vigour, the two trench knives tearing away the upper layer of electronics. Below, nestled in the electrical ruins of the panel, lay a thick metal lever. Irohov pulled it, and it flipped with a hiss of escaping gas. The ground shook as the dome slid apart, revealing a smaller dome underneath. It rose upwards in a cloud of smoke, the tortured hydraulics forcing the Ragtime free of its underground hangar. As the smoke cleared, we got the first glimpse of our escape vehicle. It was shaped like a stretched diamond, the bottom covered with huge rocket exhausts. The top rose past four large exposed rocket turrets, dividing into five large pillars, arranged in a quincunx shape.

_That's four points in a square with a fifth in the center, to those who are not geometrically inclined. And/or bloody stupid._

The pillars supported a spherical metallic circle, covered in the same overlapping metal plates as the hangar dome. Near the base, directly below the brilliant red letters spelling out Ragtime, was a smallish hatch, dented and covered with bloodstains. We headed towards it. Irohov swiped a card-key, but the door obstinately refused to open.

"Azul? If you would oblige?"

Taking a deep, and frankly unnerving, sniff of the blood on the door, she wrenched its circular handle around with a crunch, and it popped open, letting out a puff of cool, musty air. We trooped in in silence, Mordakka re-stowing the Siyantz gun and the Morta to prevent it getting caught on the ceiling. Even with him almost on all fours, he still cracked his skull on the entranceway.

"Zoggit. You Humies is too small!"

We came out of the cramped hallway into a wide cargo bay, packed with machine tools and a partially dismantled Soyuz. Irohov moved towards a wide spiral staircase leading up on one side.

"Each Triarch's command ship is deisgned to be easily modified. The _Ragtime_, as you can see, is modified to support Rayvin's vehicle assaults. This staircase leads to the command bubble."

We climbed up the eight stories of ship, eventually arriving inside the metal bubble we'd seen from outside. It was larger than it had looked from outside, almost three stories tall, and lined with ladders leading up to consoles suspended from the ceiling. Irohov took the command chair in the center of the room, tapping the arm-mounted console and sitting back in disgust when it failed to do anything. Then, something seemed to occur to him. He pulled a lever next to the chair, and, clattering, the overlapping metal plates surrounding the bubble collapsed downwards, folding into the outer four supports. We were left standing in a transparent sphere, with an excellent view in all directions.

_"You guys sure no how to travel in style."_

Irohov looked grim.

"It's travelling that's the problem. The reactor is self-regulating, and obviously the A.I.N didn't manage to destabilize it, otherwise the _Ragtime_ wouldn't be here. The cogitators, on the other hand… without them, we have no power, no flight, nothing. The command I just tapped in should have activated the flight systems, but… nothing."

"You don't have backups?"

He settled back in his chair.

"The computers can theoretically be completely reactivated from a hard-disk backup, but not on the Ragtime. Rayvin insisted that only the internal cogitators should have data-storage capacity, and they've been fried. Unless we can find a compu-

[Seriously. Seriously? I AM AN ORGANIC COMPUTER, SIMPLETON. I fail to understand your… dim wittedness! The primary computer relay is… Here.]

Picking a seemingly random panel on one of the consoles, he tore it open, yanking out reams of wiring and clipping the leads onto various bolts across his body. For a few seconds, the smoke inside him surged with energy, and his makeshift cloak stuck straight out from the static. Then, with a rumble, the ship sprang to life. The consoles reactivated, their readouts flickering with data faster than the eye could follow. The ventilation system came back on, fresh air whirling away some of the dust.

[Docking cables… disengaged. Weapons systems… powered on. If someone would please man those defence consoles…]

He indicated four consoles, spread evenly around the room. Mordakka and Shootnik took two, the latter quickly dismantling his, muttering about "Mody-fee-cayshins". I took the third, and Azul settled into the final one, grinning and humming insanely to herself.

"Are you all right?"

There was a vein pulsing in her forehead.

"Fine, heretic. Shut up, Nnoitra."

[Irohov, we are prepared to launch on your command.]

"Good. Launch in f- _Apoli_!"

The Warhound titan's head burst through the outer wall of the fort, trailing a stream of ichor and mechanical fluids.

"Threetwoonegetusoutofhere!"

[Ignition.]

There was a brief moment of silence, followed by mind-blowing noise. The hangar exploded in a blaze of light and smoke as we rose ponderously in the air.

[We have liftoff. Engaging atmospheric escape engines in 3... Brace yourselves.]

The roaring grew even louder, and we were pressed back in the seats, waves of pressure rolling over us as the _Ragtime_ accelerated to several times the speed of sound in a few seconds. My vision flickered, and dimly, out of the corner of my eye, I could see a silvery shape, striding through the smoke of the fort. It quickly vanished as we passed through a low bank of cloud, rolling slightly to get us into orbital trajectory.

[We have achieved stable speed. External sensors indicate the A.I.N. is not pursuing. Entering orbit... now.]

We left the clouds, and I could see the barren planet of Namaskar spread before me. For a few seconds my gut was wrenched by the sensation of free-fall, but the artificial gravity kicked in, pulling me firmly into my seat. Irohov gave a whoop of satisfaction.

"We made it! Hahah! We actually made it! _Bog moy_! We're still alive!"

"_We still have to get past the fleet. There's a few dozen Khornate ships out there, and they'll have noticed our launch."_

He pointed through the bubble, indicating the dim reddish specks in the difference. My vision flared, and suddenly it was as if I was standing next to the ships. They were turning, noticing the brightly burning speck that was still burning through orbit.

"Root's right. They've noticed us. Tkhiss, get us out of orbit. Speed is of the essence."

"Sebell, that's not how spaceships work! You can't just leave orbit! You need to be able to slingshot yourself properly-"

Several of the consoles lit up with warning lights.

[We have multiple long-range torpedo lock. Jamming is ineffective.]

A klaxon whooped.

[Seven torpedoes launched. We're leaving. I will slow the enemy down.]

"How? All we've got is four rocket launchers and a multilaser turret!"

[I continue to marvel at your stupidity. Before the Tau left, they transferred control of the satellite defence network to me. We have left the static jamming field the A.I.N generated. I am in complete control. Connecting... Confirmed. Auto-targetting set. Markerlights engaged. Deactivate stealth fields.]

Suddenly, as far as the eye could see, _thousands_ of tiny beige shapes shimmered into view, their weapons pulsing with blue energies. As one, they swung towards the approaching fleet.

[Fire.]

The sky filled with a literal grid of interlocking blue lines, the waste-gas trail of the railguns bright in the vacuum. Several of the Khornate warships were outright destroyed, but the lead ship, an immense machine that defied any kind of classification, pushed forwards, its cannons tearing a shredded line through the Tau defence grid.

[Torpedoes successfully deflected. Sectors 0079 through 0085 Alpha have been compromised. Enemy threat level greatly underestimated. We cannot fight that machine. Commencing emergency command bubble separation.]

Irohov rose to his feet, shocked.

"What!? You can't be serious! That will take away our shielding, our Warp drives, most of the weaponry... we'll be fast enough, sure... but we won't be able to leave the system!"

"_Don't you worry about Warp jumps, Triarch. You have Chaos on your side, too."_

"That's not very reassuring. All right. We'll need some firepower, at least. Mordakka, Shootnik. Cud yez take dat multi-laza, 'an make it blastier? We needz ta be as shooty as we can!"

"Done, Humie! If dere's anyfing I'ze good at, it's gunz!"

The two Orks abandoned the rocket turrets, moving to the multilaser control which Irohov indicated. Within a second, they had dismantled the entire panel, and were rewiring the power feeds behind it, muttering back and forth.

[Commencing separation.]

There was a crunch and the ship shuddered, the main engines cutting out. Rings of explosive bolts around the base of the cockpit pylons exploded, and a thick hatch slammed across the center pylon, sealing it away from the rest of the ship. The body of the _Ragtime_ slowly decelerated, its forwards thrusters pulling it away. The pylons pulled out from the shafts they fitted into, clusters of thrusters unfurling. The multilaser slid from its bay at the bottom of the sphere, running on track mounted along the edge of the dome. It assumed a position roughly at the top of the sphere. With the body detached, we were left in what was essentially a sphere, with four long rocket pylons trailing off one end.

[_Ragtime_ is now in _Sputnik_ mode. Fuel mix is optimal, plasma flow at 500 Celsius. Red Promethium burn on your command, Triarch.]

"Everyone, we're activating a Red Promethium burn. For a few seconds, the engines will be firing semi-explosive plasma instead of waste gas. Start the burn."

Rojo, Mordakka and I were thrown to the floor by the burst of power, while Azul, Irohov and Tkhiss were pressed deeply into their seats. Behind us, the engine pylons were literally glowing cherry red, and instead of flames they shot an immense streamer of incandescent sparks. Within seconds, we had left Namaskar behind, and were lined up on an arrow-straight path out of the system.

[Cutting engines... done. Cycling for future burns. Thermocouple electrical generation at 110 percent. All readouts nominal.]

"So we're safe!"

[Essentially, yes. We have accelerated to a speed which none of the enemy ships can hope to match.]

Azul gave an enraged growl, her frame shaking wildly.

"B-but we ran away! We fled our foe like cowardly heretics!"

_It's worth pointing out that the person raving about heretics was, herself, a heretic. Chaos tends to do that to Imperials._

I removed my helmet, scratching my head. Then I grinned, with all the Chaotic malice and insanity that I could muster.

"We ran, yes. But we still won."

"We didn't kill that... that assassin!"

"_Hate to change the topic, but why are you sane? What did you do to that Bloodthirster to subdue it?"_

It was her turn to smile, and for the first time I noticed that her teeth were almost wolf-like, viciously pointed.

"Simple. I told Nnoitra what I did to Corporal Raikov when he tried to kiss me."

Rojo stiffened, his hands trembling. Irohov blanched, then turned a pale shade of green. Azul grinned even wider, the pointed teeth making her look more threatening than ever.

"It's amazing what you can accomplish with a stim-pack and some barbed wire."

"_Oh Tzeentch. Please please PLEASE can we go back to talking about the machine?"_

"Ah yes... you were saying, heretic, that we won? How so?"

I grinned again.

"Tkhiss, give me a magnified image of Namaskar's surface."

Several of the larger screens flashed to a rear camera view. The planet looked normal... until it suddenly darkened, becoming an inky black sphere that was almost invisible against the stars.

"I realised that my orders included no restrictions on what spells I could and could not use. Root and I guessed correctly that the A.I.N would resist our strongest weaponry, so we hit it with something nothing can resist. I give you... the El-Rhyk Carbonic Transmuter."

"We can't unnerstan yez, Humie! Wot iz you sayin?"

"_The Transmuter is a basic alchemical transmutation spell. It sucks nine carbon atoms from any point in time and space, dragging them through the warp until their fundamental nature is permanently altered. Once they reach the location of the spell, they convert everything they touch into an equivalent mass of carbon. The conversion never stops, and the rate of conversion constantly accelerates. Any matter that touches what's left of Namaskar will be irrevocably converted into carbon, including the Assassin."_

"I don' get it!"

"_Big killy machine is now a rock."_

"WAAAGH! We win, boyz!"

[Impressive. But what about the- Warning! Major realspace distortions detected around the ejected remains of the ship!]

The monitor shifted, becoming a grainy closeup of the body of the _Ragtime_. It was surrounded by a cloud of crystalline particles. Suddenly, it winked out of existence.

"What in the hell happened to it?! That had to be magic!"

"_Relax, Triacrh. That was the Bureau of Time. They're a subset of our organisation. We're going to ask them to come back and recover the _Ragtime._ We won't want to have wasted resources."_

"Oh... so that's a good thing?"

"_Yes."_

"All right then... how do we get out of here? Lord Vivat?"

I snapped my fingers. The starfield vanished, replaced by what looked like a pleasant meadow on any agri-world, a bright sun shining down on the fields of tall grasses.

"Welcome to Headquarters... or rather, one of the outer storage dimensions. This is where we get off."

With a wave of my hand, the rear hatch opened, apparently onto a tunnel that stretched off into infinity.

"Walk down there, and you'll be taken to where you will be safe. We will provide any and all resources and services to cover your identities. We believe in helping those who help us, so you'll have nothing to fear from the Inquisition. Or the Tau for that matter."

Wearily, the group got to their feet. Irohov shook my hand, a sad smile on his face.

"You may have ruined my military career, and tainted me with Chaos, you disgusting heretic you, but thanks anyways. It was... fun."

I nodded.

"Any time, Triach Ivan Zulonovich Irohov. We will meet again."

He nodded, then turned to the rest of the group.

"Everyone... we fought well. Goodbye. Rojo, make sure your sister doesn't murder anyone, you here."

"With pleasure, Comrade Triarch sir!"

Without another word, he walked down the hallway and disappeared. Azul and Rojo were next.

"Heretic, I swear to you that the next time you see me you will not recognize me! I will turn the power of Chaos against itself! The Emperor protects. Come on, Rojo."

Her brother gave a sheepish shrug, followed by a precise salute.

"Da svidanya, Comrade."

"_Any time, Rojo."_

They left, Azul marching haughtily, her brother trudging along behind her in his ruined armour.

[Lord Vivat... The knowledge I have gained from this will keep my people in though for millennia. Consider the entire race of the Nntocka permanently in your debt.]

"Good luck, you airhead."

[I'll take that as a complement, meatsack. Mordakka, Shootnik.]

The wires connecting him to the ship popped off, and he left, the improvised cape billowing in some unseen breeze.

"Well, Mordakka, you're the last one. Good luck out there."

He slapped me on the back, an act which set off several cursh-damage warnings in my armour's sensors.

"Fanks, Humie. Youse fought like an Ork! Now, dere's a liddle Freebooterz ship wot is jus waitin fer me ta steal it down in Charradon. Come on, Shootnik! We'ze goin on anudder Waaagh!"

He sprinted down the tunnel, the grot dangling off the mechanisms of his pack.

I collapsed in the command chair, wiping my brow.

"Whew..."

"_You said it."_

"Debriefing?"

"_Yep."_

I got to my feet, and walked into the light.

_The End._

_

* * *

  
_

In the more densely-populated side of the western spiral arm of our galaxy is a smallish, brownish world, covered in buildings. In the largest of these building is a room, a room the size of a small city. At its center is a machine, one of unrivalled technological brilliance. Deep within its massive bulk is a single strand of carbon nanofibre tubing, the individual carbon atoms of its lattice perfectly arranged to transport tremendous amounts of energy.

Something is happening. There is a minute ripple of energy, and an incredibly small pentagram of light, only nine atoms wide, flickers to life on the surface of the tube, then disappears just as fast, taking nine carbon atoms with it. The tube collapses, its structure permanently altered.

Magos Shimon Pegk sips his mug of steaming lubricant, enjoying the feel of the hydrocarbons filtering through his nasal fans. He is sitting in a comfortable bucket seat high up on the machine, half-asleep. While his duty is theoretically of the utmost importance, the machine is so advanced it fixes all of its problems even before they become problems. Pegk takes a long sip, sighing contentedly. Then the light catches his eye. It's a tiny red indicator rune, flashing on and off slowly. He leans forwards. An error? Odd. It's not one he's familiar with. Still, the rest of the board is reading green, so-

Every single other light turns read at the same time, and the indicator screen begins to repeat the line 'Critical Error' over and over again. Then the entire board goes dark, and fully half of the Machine with it. Pegk's mug falls from his nerveless fingers as he looks up at the horribly failing bulk of the Golden Throne. It is the nine-hundred and ninety-ninth year of the 41st millennium.

"Oh, shit."


End file.
